


You Can Stay

by idelthoughts



Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, Jealousy, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-07
Updated: 2012-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-30 18:42:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 38,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idelthoughts/pseuds/idelthoughts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Friends with benefits don't spend the night. They don't get jealous or fall in love, either. Still, that doesn't seem to be stopping anybody.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at my [Teaspoon account.](http://www.whofic.com/viewuser.php?uid=13831href)

“You can stay.”

Ianto stopped in the middle of scooping his trousers up off the floor of Jack’s room. He looked back at Jack, who was stretched out naked on the bed, hands behind his head. He looked for some hidden meaning behind Jack’s words, but Jack seemed relaxed and at ease. He wondered if Jack was hoping they’d go again tonight, but after a very long week, Ianto was nearly dead on his feet as it was.

“I’m rather tired.”

“So sleep.” Jack shrugged, and shuffled over a bit in his bed. “There’s room.”

Ianto held his trousers, indecisive. He’d been in the Hub for five days straight, moving from one crisis to another, managing things in the middle of the night while the others tried to grab an hour or two of sleep, or run around handling their own tasks. He should leave – for his own sanity, he should get out of this place.

But Jack had never asked him to stay before, not with him – Ianto had always slept on the lumpy couch if he’d stayed. But home seemed very far away at this time of night, and he’d get more sleep if he stayed in the Hub. Good sleep too, if he had a bed. He was barely home long enough to sleep anyway.

It was a practical. It didn't mean anything.

Making his decision, he nodded and draped his trousers over the back of a chair. He crawled into bed, lying on his side next to Jack. Jack brought an arm around him and pulled him tight against his side, kissing the top of Ianto’s head as he did. 

“Goodnight.” 

After some deliberation, Ianto laid his arm across Jack’s chest in a loose embrace. “Goodnight,” he said, trying to relax. Despite the fact that he’d been sleeping with Jack off and on for the better part of a year and a half, this felt awkward and new. It had always been just sex. This casual affection was odd and unsettling. 

Jack’s breathing slowed and evened out, and after a minute or two, Ianto lifted his head a bit to see Jack’s profile in the dim light. 

Jack never let his guard down for a minute; not at work, and not in bed, and it was almost like glimpsing a peek at the forbidden to see Jack like this. This guileless, easy peace was something Ianto had never witnessed. Ianto lowered his head again, ear to Jack’s chest, listening to his heartbeat.

The shifting feeling in his chest was too familiar, and despite the warmth of the glow, he felt a chill of panic. Just what he needed – to lose his heart to Jack, on top of everything else. 

He wondered if there would ever be any part of his life that Jack Harkness didn’t own.


	2. Chapter 2

The weevil was bearing down on him, and the last of the spray had just run out – the three that had charged him before were down, but he hadn’t seen the fourth. He was about to pay for that mistake. 

Ianto looked into the snarling visage, stunned for one crucial moment, and he received a swipe to his left side. He dodged just in time, and felt the catch of claws slice through his jacket, just grazing the skin beneath. He pivoted and threw the canister at the weevil with as much strength as he could manage, and with a bit of luck struck the beast in the eye. It flinched and squealed, giving him just enough time to scramble for the gun in his holster.

Before he had time to so much as close his hand on the grip, a streaking blue blur came at the weevil from behind, tackling it to the ground. Jack wrestled it to the ground, manhandling it with inhuman strength. 

“Get a sedative over here!” Jack shouted, struggling to pin the weevil in place. It snarled and writhed beneath him, gnashing its monstrous teeth in an effort to snap at some part of its assailant.

Ianto was broken from his momentary paralysis and leapt on the alien’s back, adding his weight to Jack’s in an effort to restrain the struggling beast. Owen came sprinting across the park and skidded onto his knees next to them. A quick jab to the neck with the large sedative gun had the weevil out within seconds, and Jack and Ianto were able to finally lean back and release it. 

Ianto drew a huge breath, trying to calm the raging adrenaline in his system. It had been a close call, and he knew it. He was moving to stand when Jack seized him by the shirtfront, dragging him upright. He lost his balance, and Jack shook him, hard, rattling his teeth.

“What were you doing?” Jack demanded. “Were you asleep standing up? You could have gotten yourself killed!” Ianto got his feet under him and tried to pull away, but Jack shook him again. He was like an oncoming train, roaring at Ianto with apoplectic fury, and Ianto flinched. “If you’ve got a death wish, do it on your own time – not when you’ve got a team of people depending on you!”

“Jack – Jack! That’s enough!” Owen slammed into Jack’s side and broke them apart, forcing Jack back. 

Ianto cartwheeled backward, struggling physically and mentally to regain his balance. Jack was pacing, glaring at Owen and Ianto with palpable fury. 

“Fuck off, Jack. Leave him alone. Tea Boy just about shit his pants as it is, and I don’t want to start stitching and fixing up bloody noses because you can’t keep your temper.” Owen, though snide in his defense of Ianto, planted himself between them. 

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” Ianto stuttered, still gasping to catch his breath. He wasn’t certain if it was the near brush with the weevil or with Jack’s ire that had rattled him more. 

Jack stabbed a finger in Ianto’s direction. “See that it doesn’t. I expect a damn sight more from you, Ianto. I don’t want to have to worry every time I turn my back.” A hint of something peeked through the anger, and it looked perilously close to disappointment. Ianto blinked and looked down at the muddy grass, unable to meet Jack’s eyes any longer.

“Yes sir,” he said. Jack’s words were like a slap, but he refused to let him see how much it affected him. With a concerted effort, he drew himself up, collecting his reserve and retreating into cool professionalism. “As I said, won’t happen again.” 

He kept his gaze steady on Jack, and after a moment, Jack shook his head and turned away, moving with long strides towards the Torchwood vehicle. 

A hand at his shoulder broke his attention away from Jack’s retreating form, and he found Owen pushing at the lapel of his jacket to get at his side. “Let’s have a look.”

“It’s nothing. It didn’t get me.”

Owen merely pushed an arm up to the elbow through the slice in Ianto’s jacket, raising an eyebrow. “You’re bloody lucky, mate.”

Ianto chose not to reply, and instead let Owen assuage his concerns. There was a faint scratch along his ribs, and Owen insisted on digging out the usual broad-spectrum antibiotic salve along with bandages from his kit, lifting Ianto’s shredded shirt to quickly finish the job right there in the middle of the park. Ianto suspected that Owen would have left it had he not been trying to give Jack a chance to cool off. He was grateful, if a little irritated at all the fussing. 

The ride back to Torchwood was excruciating, with Jack radiating displeasure as he roared at breakneck speed through the streets of Cardiff. He slammed the door as they pulled into the parking garage, disappearing ahead of them. Owen shook his head, muttering something disparaging about drama queens before setting out to follow. 

Ianto took a moment alone to lean against the vehicle and breathe. He felt like his stomach would turn itself inside out, and it wasn’t just the residual fear and adrenaline. There was a sickening burn that came with being subject to Jack’s disapproval. Somewhere along the line, Jack’s opinion had come to mean far too much to him – it went far beyond employment and casual sex, into territory he was barely willing to voice to even himself. He tried to push it away, but it kept coming back to stubbornly haunt him every time he so much as spoke with Jack. 

Ianto finally pushed off the vehicle and left the garage, moving in a daze. He went to his locker and pulled out a fresh suit to replace his soiled one. The jacket was beyond repair, and he regretfully tossed it in the bin, along with the shirt. He fingered the bandage at his side, idly wondering if he would have survived a goring by the weevil, guts spilling all over the muddy grass of Bute Park. Jack bounced back from everything, and sometimes it was hard to remember they weren’t all invincible. He wondered if Jack would care if he died. 

A warm hand covered his over the bandage, and he started. He was spun around with dizzying speed, pushed against the cold locker with a slam. Jack. His heart sailed into high gear, thumping hard against his ribs.

“Second time someone got the jump on you tonight,” Jack said, voice low and buzzing in his ear as his shirt and braces brushed against Ianto’s naked chest. “Not good.”

He felt the vibrations of Jack’s voice travel down his spine, lighting a spark there. The intensity of Jack and his moods was an undeniable aphrodisiac, even when Ianto himself was the target of his displeasure. However, Ianto kept his poker face despite the stirring interest in his body, and met Jack’s gaze with cool diffidence. Eyes narrowing, Jack moved swiftly, pinning Ianto’s arms above his head by the wrists, and sliding a knee between his legs. Ianto struggled to keep his composure, unwilling to lose the game this early. 

“You need to take better care of yourself, Ianto.” Jack nipped at his ear. “I don’t like training new people.”

“I’ll try to refrain for causing you unnecessary administrative complications, sir,” he said, keeping his voice as level as he could with Jack pressing his thigh firmly into Ianto’s growing erection. 

“Excellent. Now, I have your punishment all planned out.”

Ianto shivered at Jack’s wicked smile, uncertain as to whether all was forgiven or not. But then Jack rubbed against him again and he gave in to his arousal, diving in to kiss Jack with a desperate, needy fervency. There were other ways to gain Jack’s forgiveness and approval.

 _Just a game,_ he reminded himself. It was just a game, and he had everything to lose. It was getting harder and harder to remember that. He needed to find a way to keep from being sucked down by the whirlpool that was Jack Harkness.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack had them out doing cleanup for another weevil take-down in the middle of Cardiff, but Owen had buggered off and left it all to Ianto, which was just as well; his usual charming demeanour was threatening to drive off the witnesses they had to deal with, and they needed to deliver a fair bit more retcon than normal – an entire seniors walking group had been around the park. Ianto had to all but have a tea party and listen to an hour of stories about 'the good old times' and ‘kids these days’ before everyone was retconned and asleep at picnic benches in the park.

Feeling exhausted and put-upon, he left the park in search of a coffee shop. He could barely stand up he was so tired, and after far too many hours of running around tying up loose ends, he needed something warm and caffeinated to keep him going.

He flung open the inviting door of a nearby café, and was bowled over as a woman plowed into him with amazing force and speed. She was coming out the door with a full cup of coffee, and he flinched and caved his chest inward as the flash sting of scalding hot coffee soaked through his shirt and vest.

The woman gasped angrily, staring at Ianto in open-mouthed fury. “Did you even think to look where you were going?” she demanded, shaking drops of coffee off her hands. “I’m already late, and now I have to change – just my luck…” Without apology, she pushed past him and out the door into the street, binning her spilt coffee as she strode away, muttering angrily. 

Ianto looked down at his soiled shirt, tie, and suit. The navy suit would survive, but the white shirt was a loss – no way he’d be able to soak it before the stain set in. But at least he had another shirt in the SUV he could change into. A crap addition to a crap day, he thought with a defeated sigh.

Before he could turn and leave, he saw a square of white flash in the periphery of his vision. The woman from behind the counter stood nearby, holding out a towel to him. “Here,” she said.

“Thanks,” he said as he took the offered towel. He dabbed the worst of the moisture out of his suit. It had rapidly cooled, and though his skin stung a bit, he doubted he had any serious burns. 

“You alright?”

Ianto looked up from his efforts and saw the woman hadn’t moved, and was giving him a look of friendly concern. He nodded and gave her a bland smile in return. “Yes, thanks. Well enough. Now that I’ve had my coffee, I suppose I’ll be moving along.”

“Nonsense, you’ll need something sweet to go with your drink.” She tipped her head toward the display case behind her, which was filled with treats and pastries.

“If it’s delivered in the same manner, I think I’ll pass.”

That earned a wry smile from the woman, and she shook her head. “You poor thing. Come on, it’s on the house – coffee and a treat.”

Ianto glanced back at the SUV longingly, but before he could politely refuse she was already behind the counter preparing him a coffee, the hiss of the espresso machine loud and insistent.

“Americano?”

“Yes,” Ianto said, following her and dropping the towel on the counter, neatly folded. “Thank you, you don’t have to do that.”

She set the cup on the counter, along with a brown bag that contained a blueberry muffin. “No thanks necessary. Sorry you had to be on the receiving end of that steamroller.”

Ianto picked up the cup and took a sip cautiously. His eyebrows rose, and he made an appreciative noise. “This is really quite good.”

She gave him a sly smile. “I thought so, you are a connoisseur – I can always spot them. We roast our own here.”

He glanced around the shop and spotted the telltale signs of the burlap sacks of shipped beans, and now he realized the thick, sharp smell was far too rich to be just a regular coffee shop. He took another sip of his coffee, feeling the warmth seep into his chilled, tired bones. “Do you sell them as well?”

Before he’d even finished the question, she had a kilo bag of whole beans on the counter. “On the house.” 

Ianto picked up the bag and sniffed it, enjoying the deep aroma. He looked up at her, eyes narrowed in mock interrogation. “First one’s free - like that, is it?”

She grinned at him. “Guilty as charged. But trust me, you’ll be back after that.”

Her grin was catching, and he felt his fatigue dissolve as he smiled back at her. He caught her eye for just a bit too long, and realized he was standing there staring at her like an idiot. He faltered and felt himself blush lightly – it had been long enough since anyone other than Jack had flirted with him that he was actually a bit flustered. Before he could think of something to say to cover his lapse, she rescued him by holding out her hand. 

“Anna,” she said. “I’m the owner here. Nice to meet you…”

“Ianto,” he supplied, taking her hand and shaking it firmly.

“Ianto,” she said. “Yes, nice to meet you.” 

She met his gaze squarely, firm and unabashed. She was tall, with an air of confidence and self-assurance that felt familiar and welcoming. He was sure he was studying her a bit too closely, but she didn’t seem to mind. Reluctantly they released each other, and he was pleased to see she looked every bit as interested as he felt. Not that there was anything to it, but once in a while it was nice to know he could do normal things in life, like flirt with the girl at the coffee shop.

He cleared his throat and broke off, pulling his hand away and scooping up the bag of beans. He should make a hasty retreat while he was still ahead. He looked down at the paper bag on the counter, then at his full hands, realizing he had made a small logistical error. He stood there feeling daft in his stained and wet shirt and tie. 

A voice in his head, clear as day, told him that things like this never happened to Jack Harkness. Awkwardness this spectacular required an overworked, exhausted Welshman and an attractive woman as an audience.

Anna picked up the bag and leaned across the counter, tugging at his jacket to pull him closer. He stepped forward and hit the counter as Anna tucked the small paper bag into his pocket. “Now don’t forget it’s there,” she admonished, giving the pocket a little pat. Her hand might have lingered a bit on his coat, but that also might have been his wishful thinking. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered automatically.

Anna rested her elbows on the counter and looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Do you salute as well?”

“Only if you’re very good.” The dry response tumbled out, sounding far more suggestive than it had in his head. This was the outcome of spending too much time listening to the awful lines that regularly spilled out of Jack. However, he didn’t have Jack’s oozing charm to make it work. He winced, waiting for her to be visibly put off.

Instead, she grinned widely and stood straight to meet his eye. “I’ll have to do my best, then. Don’t be a stranger. I promise there’s rarely body-checking in here, so you’ll be safe next time.”

With a promise and a nod and a healthy measure of relief, Ianto left, glancing back over his shoulder once to glimpse the woman tidying up the counter, a pleasant smile on her face. It was rare he told his name to anyone who would remember it by the time he was done with them. When he met people outside of Torchwood, there was usually screaming, trauma, and things going terribly wrong. 

He took another sip of coffee and hopped into the SUV, giving a last glance back at the coffee shop. As he changed into his clean shirt, he realized he was in a much better mood than before, feeling centred and grounded. Amazing what a cup of coffee and a little social contact could accomplish. 

 

***

 

With a long, satisfied groan, Ianto relaxed and flopped down across Jack’s sweaty back, his legs gone weak and rubbery. Jack’s chest heaved beneath him, and they lay together in one boneless heap. 

“What got into you?” Jack asked, voice slightly muffled as his face was still mashed against the lacquered surface of his desk.

Ianto shifted, pulling out of Jack and reaching to pull up his pants and trousers from where they’d pooled around his ankles. He shrugged. “Nothing. In the mood, I suppose.”

Jack straightened and reached for his own trousers. “Any time you’re in that mood again, you let me know.” He leaned over and gave Ianto a lingering kiss. “The confidence suits you. Very sexy.” He kissed Ianto again, deeper this time. 

Ianto groaned at the sweet rush of pleasure, working hard to resist melting into Jack. He pushed him away instead. “You keep doing that we’ll have to go again, and I’m not sure I have it in me.” He tried to hide his sentimental blush, turning away.

“I bet you do,” Jack said, snaking an arm around Ianto’s waist, halting his escape. He pulled Ianto close to him and between his legs as he sat back on the desk. “So? Retconning pensioners gets you all fired up? I can find more opportunities, if this is my reward.”

“The smell of pomade never fails to turn me on,” he deadpanned. He pulled away again before he let himself get too affectionate, and made for the door of Jack’s office. “I’ll file the rest of the incident report, and get started on restocking the SUV. We used up most of the weevil supplies in that one.”

Jack’s face went blank, and then abruptly he was back in business mode, like a car switching gears. He dropped into his chair, and Ianto noted, with no small measure of self-satisfaction, that he winced slightly when he hit the seat. “Okay, send Owen up here when you get the chance. I want to get his rundown of this afternoon.” 

Ianto nodded and left Jack to it. Amazing how the man could go from being shagged violently across his desk to filing paperwork on it with barely an eye blink in between. Ianto made his way down the stairs, trying to ignore the fact that he was so easily dismissed from Jack’s mind.


	4. Chapter 4

While his coffee really was quite good, it was even better with superior ingredients, and so he found himself headed back to the little café across town once a week. The first time, Anna had given him a knowing 'I told you so' look, and they’d exchanged inconsequential banter while she sold him the coffee. The next week he’d stopped in again and they’d chatted at length, and he left feeling confident and pleased to converse with someone about nothing important at all. It was like skiving off school, or having a secret hideout. It was recharging, and for a short visit once a week, it had a disproportionately positive effect on his outlook.

It was a Tuesday when he walked into the little shop in the afternoon, and there was no one around. Anna was behind the counter, and she swung round as he opened the door.

“Ianto! Nice to see you again.” Her grin was a mile wide, and Ianto suddenly realized what it was about her that seemed so familiar. Leave it to him to find the female version of Jack. Well, female and Welsh. She had his blue eyes and dark hair, his confident grin and height, even that square, broad stance with feet planted like roots. Right. Good to know he had a type, now. 

The comparison sparked a thrill in him, and he suddenly wondered what other qualities she might share with Jack, not to mention how enjoyable it would be to find out. However, before he could get too wrapped up in that extremely intriguing thought, he smiled pleasantly and nodded to Anna in greeting. “Hello! Thought I’d pop in to pick up a few more beans.”

“Right!” She wiped her hands with the cloth at her waist, and came out from behind the counter with a bag in her hands. “Here you go. Sure you can’t stop for a bit and have a cup? Things are pretty slow at the moment.”

Ianto eyed the clock, but there was no need to rush directly back to Torchwood. “Sure, that would be lovely.”

Anna ushered to him a table. “Hang on, I’ll grab us both something.”

Ianto watched her go, and had to give himself a stern shake when he realized he was all but leering at her backside and the tight pull of her jeans as she walked. He sat forward and cleared his throat, trying to brush off his abruptly lewd thoughts. Clearly Jack was rubbing off on him. It was nice to have pleasant company and a good place to drop in and flirt with someone, but that was really it. He glanced back, and saw Anna stretch and reach for something on the top shelf, and her shirt rode up to reveal a strip of skin at her waist. 

And something nice to look at. Nothing wrong with that, either.

When she returned to the table with two steaming cups of coffee, Ianto thanked her graciously. She slipped into the seat opposite him with a sigh. 

“Oh, thank god. I haven’t sat down since five this morning.” She leaned back and took a sip.

“You too?” Ianto smiled at her over his cup. “Must be one of those days.”

“Must be,” she agreed. “What do you do that gets you up that early?”

Ianto’s froze, coffee hovering over the table for a second until he remembered to put it down. Ah, yes. Now it was all coming back to him. There was a very good reason why he had no friends – no life at all, really – outside of Torchwood. It took up all his time, was his whole life, and yet he couldn’t talk about it with anyone. Made for some very short conversations.

Anna leaned in, and his attention snapped back to her. “You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to.”

“Not much else to talk about, then.” He took another sip of his coffee to cover his awkwardness.

“Workaholic,” she said, leaning back in her chair with a sigh. “I can understand that. Me, I’m here all the time. Always said I wanted to own my own shop, and I did it. Unfortunately, it eats your life.”

He looked around the space. It was warm and inviting, earth tones and rough-hewn wood features that gave it a rustic air. Lots of cozy nooks to curl up in – the kind of place that filled with students with laptops in the evenings. “Still, your own shop – it has some perks.” He waved the cup of coffee appreciatively.

Anna folded her arms and wrinkled her brow. “Was that pun intentional?”

Ianto laughed. “No. That one snuck by me.”

She leaned forward and put her elbows on the table. “Well, congratulations, Ianto – I think you’ve hit upon the one and only coffee-related joke I haven’t heard a million times.”

He couldn’t help but laugh again – she was charming. Even if it was just business to her, it was nice to have someone to chat with. The only other regular people in his life outside Torchwood were the drycleaners, and they tended to curse and frown when he showed up with yet another piece of clothing covered in some strange, insolvent goo that they had to spend days trying to get off. 

That he was making this big a deal over a ten-minute conversation with the girl who sold him coffee was bordering on pathetic. He really, really needed to get a life.

He glanced at his watch and sighed. “Hate to say so, but it was time I was pushing off. Have to get back to it.” He drained the last of his coffee.

“No rest for the wicked,” Anna said, standing and collecting his cup along with her own.

He stood and gave Anna a warm smile. “Thank you again for the coffee.”

Anna drew a quick breath, and then with a determined look blurted out, “Look, I don’t normally – with customers, I mean – but… Would you fancy a drink sometime? You know, proper drink, not coffee?”

He blinked in surprise. “Umm…”

Her eyebrows came together quickly, and she looked puzzled, but quickly shifted to embarrassment. “Oh, I’m sorry – I thought… look, never mind. I suppose at this point you’re not coming back anyway–“

“Yes.” An impulse triggered the answer, words moving faster than his thoughts. He licked his lips and cleared his throat, brain trying to catch up with his mouth. “I mean, I’d like that.”

Anna shut her mouth quickly, pleasantly surprised by his answer. “Okay! Well, great. Me too.”

Ianto nodded, trying to shake off the nagging sense of guilt. It would be fun – or good for him, at the very least. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done something that didn’t have to do with Torchwood in some way, shape, or form. 

And then he thought of Jack. He quickly and ruthlessly brushed it aside. His arrangement with Jack was hardly exclusive. He had no reason to feel guilty.

“I’d like that,” he said, managing to plaster a pleasant expression over his uncertainty. “Saturday? Should I meet you, or pick you up?”

She broke into a wide grin, which lit up her face and seemed to make her glow. “Yeah, that’d be great. Eight? We can meet at mine, I’m near the centre of town. Maybe walk down from there and find a place.”

He wasn’t certain if the fluttering in his belly was excitement or trepidation. She was nice, and a date with her would be light and easy if their conversations were any indication, and without consequence. Even if it was an experience he never repeated, it would be good to have just a taste of life outside Torchwood. He nodded in agreement, and realized that he was indeed looking forward to it.

“Okay! That’s great. I’ll see you Saturday, then.” She glanced out the shop windows, and apparently deciding that no one was likely to walk in just then, she stepped forward and quickly kissed Ianto. Just a soft peck on the lips, but her sudden nearness and bold move was enough to trigger a sudden twinge in his belly. She paused, face just inches from his. Her cool blue eyes inspected him, slightly narrowed, with a small smile curving her lips. 

“I think I’m looking forward to our date,” Anna said quietly. Her voice was low and seductive, a marked change from her usual bubbly personality. Again Ianto was strongly reminded of Jack and his quicksilver changes from harmless flirting to predatory sexiness. 

“Me too,” he said, his voice rough to his own ears. It was tempting to lean in and kiss her again, but snogging in the middle of the day in her shop was probably a bit crass. He was looking forward to this, he realized, for more reasons than just the opportunity to get out. He managed to tear his eyes away from her inviting mouth, and gave her a weak smile.

Her eyes lingered on his lips for a moment longer, and then she stepped back and scooped up their empty cups from the table. “Let me grab a pen and paper. I’ll give you my address.”

Ianto left the shop with Anna’s address and mobile number tucked into his inner jacket pocket. 

 

***

 

Pinned against the wall in the Archive room, Jack threw his head back and came hard in Ianto’s hand. Ianto thrust a few more times into Jack’s hand and bit into his shoulder, and then he was shuddering too, slumping against Jack.

He managed to lift his head and place a sloppy kiss on Jack’s mouth, pulling his hand from Jack’s trousers. Jack pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped up the mess, which they’d become well practiced at containing – the odd hand job down in the Archives was hardly foreign territory.

“Seriously, what is up with you lately?” Jack asked, grinning against Ianto’s mouth.

“What do you mean?” Ianto asked, still fuzzy from the force of his orgasm.

“You’re not normally so aggressive, is all.” Jack straightened up, but kept his back against the wall as he refastened his trousers, still giving Ianto a curious and thoughtful look. 

Ianto frowned at Jack’s inspection, self-consciously buttoning his own trousers. “If you don’t like it, you can say no.”

“I didn’t say I don’t like it. I like it a lot. I’m just curious who it is.”

Ianto looked up at him warily. “What are you talking about?”

Jack shrugged, looking amused. “Who did you meet? There’s someone. And I’m guessing you haven’t slept with them yet, judging by sexual tension thing you’ve got going on.”

Ianto blinked rapidly several times, trying to come up with some kind of response. “I – I don’t–“

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jack said, cutting him off. He stepped close and curled a hand around the back of Ianto’s neck. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t do jealousy. As far as I’m concerned, you can do what and who you like. Doesn’t make any difference to me.”

Ianto pulled out of Jack’s grip, feeling his heart racing uncomfortably and his mind reeling a bit. He hadn’t given the brief kiss and upcoming date a second thought upon entering Torchwood – certainly not as far as Jack was concerned. He’d just gone to finish up a few tasks in the Archives until Jack had come in. Then he’d pounced on Jack, shoving him against the wall and sticking his hand down his pants without so much as a by your leave. It hadn’t occurred to him that it might be anything other than a passing impulse. It wouldn’t be the first time.

That Jack could pinpoint the fact that he had met someone he was attracted to without anything more than a few quick shags around the office was a little disturbing, frankly. 

The unpleasant thought followed that he wished Jack would be jealous. Why didn’t it bother him that Ianto might be seeing someone else?

“So? Who is it? They cute?” Jack smiled, cheeks dimpling, his eyes sparkling with amusement. The man could out-gossip even Gwen when he put his mind to it. 

Ianto was getting more and more irritated by the moment, even though he had no reason to be. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ianto said, walking away from Jack.

Jack came up behind him and turned Ianto around gently, a warning note entering his voice. “Now, it doesn’t work quite like that. I don’t mind if you’re involved with other people, but I don’t appreciate being lied to. If it’s none of my business, just say so. But see, now you’re making me worried – not just as the guy shagging you, but as your boss. Everything okay?”

 _The guy shagging you._ So that was how Jack thought of it. It was no different than he expected, and yet the blunt reminder was insult to injury. His tone cooled, becoming frosty and unapproachable. “It’s none of your business.”

Jack eyed him carefully for a moment, but then nodded. “Okay. Will it interfere with Torchwood?”

“No.” Ianto freed himself from Jack’s grip and turned away to the Archive bench with the myriad of untagged objects ready for documenting and storage, struggling against the suffocating feeling that was bearing down on him. “If you don’t mind, I have a lot of work to do.”

He sensed Jack hovering behind him, mind working, but eventually he heard the rustle of cloth and Jack shifting his weight. Rather than walk away, Jack instead stepped behind him and pressed his front to Ianto’s back, and his hands slipped under his arms and around his chest. 

“Have it your way,” Jack said in his ear, breath warm. 

Ianto made a small “hm,” but said nothing else. He shivered when Jack nipped at his ear, and tried not to melt back into his arms.

“And if you ever feel like sharing, you know where to find me,” he added playfully. With a quick kiss to Ianto’s cheek, Jack slipped away from him, leaving his back feeling cold and naked.


	5. Chapter 5

For the days that followed, Ianto second-guessed himself, and several times came close to calling to cancel on his date. It was ill-thought out, getting involved with someone outside Torchwood. And, for reasons that related far too closely to Jack and some misguided sense of devotion, he felt uncertain about the idea of being with someone else, even if it was just a simple date. Not to mention that it had been so long since there had been someone else, he couldn’t actually picture it. Each time he picked up the mobile to call, however, something would come up, and he was forced to put it off until the next day.

It was Friday when the rift alarm went again, and by late afternoon Ianto found himself doing a sensor sweep of an artifact that had come through into a wooded area outside Cardiff. He kept peering over the sensor equipment periodically to watch Jack talking with the UNIT commander. They were far enough away that he couldn’t make out what they were saying, but occasionally he would hear Jack’s boisterous laugh travel across the distance, and his attention would be drawn back to them again. 

No, Jack wasn’t just talking – that was all but foreplay happening over there. And from the looks of it, the UNIT commander was ready to drop kit right there in the forest and let Jack have his way with her. Watching Jack charm and distract people while the rest of the team got their readings, sometimes stealing things from under the nose of other agencies, was not unusual. This was different, however. 

Ianto recognized those casual touches and smiles. He knew, because they worked on him every time.

“Christ, Ianto. If you don’t stop glaring at them, you’re going to set them on fire.”

He blinked, looking up to find Owen standing over him. “What?”

Owen narrowed his eyes. “Jack finds a warm body to take home by just going for a stroll to the post office. If you’re going to sit around like a teenaged girl and get jealous every time, you’re going to go insane.”

“Shut it, Owen.” He busied himself in the readings in front of him. He heard Jack’s laugh again, that deep chuckle that sent shivers up his spine, but he grit his teeth and refused to look up.

“Fine. I’m just saying, maybe you should think about getting out a little. Maybe find a little action of your own, rather than pining away like a Victorian heroine.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t take advice on relationships from you.” 

“Ooh, it’s a _relationship_ now.”

“It’s not – for god’s sake, bugger off, Owen!” Ianto threw the sensor reader down, catching Toshiko and Gwen exchanging sympathetic looks from the corner of his eye as he stalked away for the Torchwood SUV. So much for the idea of a private life staying private. Bloody Torchwood.

He’d find something else to do. Something out of earshot of Jack and that grating, obnoxious laugh. 

 

***

 

When it was after midnight and it was clear that Jack wouldn’t be returning tonight thanks to the apparently irresistible charms of the UNIT commander, Ianto gave up angrily cataloguing the Archives and picked up his mobile. It was Friday night, and he knew where to find some distraction, if not the best of company.

“What the fuck do you want? I’m not coming in, even if Cardiff is about to sink into the sea and become the new lost city of Atlantis.” Owen’s strident voice belted from the speaker, accompanied by a loud throbbing drums and the hum of voices. Ianto pulled the mobile away from his ear, wincing.

“Where are you?” he asked.

There was a pause. “Nightclub. Why?”

“I’ll meet you.”

Another pause. “Now you’re finally making some sense, Tea Boy.” 

Owen gave him the name and address, and in twenty minutes Ianto was two shots in, staring down at his third. Owen had an arm draped about his shoulder, drunkenly introducing him to several bored-looking women that were clearly trying to avoid his attentions. 

Listening with half an ear and providing vague nods in response to Owen, Ianto kept turning it over and over in his head, seething. He couldn’t understand how Jack could say he wasn’t jealous. Who didn’t ‘do jealousy?’ Ianto was ready to spit venom at the moment, and over someone that he had no real claim to. He picked up the third shot glass and slammed it back, feeling the burn travel down into his belly, which was already protesting from the shock of hard alcohol on an empty stomach. 

He and Jack weren’t serious, so he knew he had no right to feel this way. They weren’t committed – exclusively or otherwise – and certainly hadn’t made any promises to each other. Even so, here he was, drowning his sorrows and letting Owen try to find him a warm body to take home for the night. 

Around the time that Owen pushed a third pint into his hands, things started to go wobbly. Sounds blurred into a wash, and he faded into a pleasant numbness. More drinks, and then at one point he was certain his head hit the top of the bar, and someone was shouting at him to shove off. Then a random montage of Owen dragging him home, of heaving into the gutter on a street corner while Owen cursed him out roundly for his inability to hold his liquor, and of staring at the stars while Owen threatened to leave him on the sidewalk for the police to take in to sleep it off in the station. 

He came round to find himself lying in the bottom of his shower under rapidly cooling water, still dressed in his suit. Slowly managing to strip the heavy, clinging fabric off, he grabbed the wastebasket from under the sink and crawled into bed, praying that the morning would be kind to him. As he faded off to sleep, he could hear Owen snoring loudly on his couch. The sound was accompanied by the thought that maybe he should try to regain some shred of control over his own life. 

 

***

 

With incredible luck that he did not deserve, Ianto was not hung over the next morning. He left Owen to sleep on the couch, and it wasn’t until some hours later that he slunk in, clutching a very large coffee and moving very slowly. When he spied Ianto, showered and dressed and apparently fine, he gave him a two-fingered salute and disappeared into the autopsy bay, presumably to continue sleeping it off on the unoccupied slab.

Jack sailed in late, looking chipper and well-rested. He practically sang hellos to everyone as he skipped in. He paused by Ianto, snagging him and pulling him into an unexpected embrace and planting a kiss on him, pulling back with a mad smile and a wink. He half expected Jack to try and high-five him. He straightened his jacket and waistcoat, trying to recover his aplomb as Jack took the stairs up to his office two at a time. 

As he stared vicious daggers into Jack’s receding back, his mobile buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, checking the new text. 

_Still on for tonight? –Anna_

He stared down at the message, clutching the phone tightly. He quickly keyed in a reply, sending it off. He tucked the mobile away and looked up again, seeing Jack hanging up his coat and getting settled in his office. His stomach flipped with petty anticipation.

Hell yes, they were still on. 

 

***

 

He showed up at Anna’s door with a bottle of wine and a modest bouquet of flowers. He had shut off his mobile tracking, a way to thumb his nose at Jack. He was pushing it, going off the grid for several hours, but at this point he didn’t care. Let Jack be the one who sat around wondering where Ianto was all night. 

Not that he could really kid himself that Jack was sitting around pining for him. 

When Anna opened the door, she looked him up and down with frank, open appreciation. “Well look at you. I do fancy the suits, but you dress down rather nicely, I must say.”

His dark jeans, collared shirt and blazer were about as casual as he ever managed. He should have acknowledged the compliment, but he was busy in his own perusal of Anna – she’d put every inch of her height to good use, with a short skirt and heeled shoes that made her as tall as Ianto, and a maroon shirt that draped elegantly along her shoulders, slitting to reveal just a flash of her upper arms as she moved. Her hair was loose, hanging at shoulder length, jet black in the dim light. 

“You look… you look beautiful.” 

The open and sincere look she gave him made his stomach roll with guilt. She was far too nice to be using like this, and he should know better. 

“Thanks, Ianto.” Anna pulled him into a quick hug, and he felt the warm press of her body through the sheer fabric of her blouse. She pulled away and beckoned him to follow her in. 

Ianto licked his lips, momentarily knocked off balance. He hadn’t expected this to be that difficult, and yet he was hardly in the door and already he was having second thoughts. He followed Anna down the hall in her flat. 

“I can’t believe you brought me flowers. A proper gentleman, you are.” She took the bouquet from him. She looked around for a moment, then grabbed a ceramic juice jug from a cupboard and filled it with water, setting the flowers in it on the counter. “There. No vases, I’m afraid, but it’ll do. Thank you.” 

She smiled at him, that same sparkling grin that he found so captivating before, the one that reminded him of Jack, and he couldn’t look away as she came close to him. She leaned in and placed a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. His eyes fluttered closed, and again the uncomfortable guilt came over him. It didn’t stop his body from rising in interest, however, and his heart stumbled, spurring his breath to come faster. Her eyes flicked over him once more before she pulled back. She looked down at the bottle clutched in his hands.

“Is that for us?”

“I thought you might like to have a drink before we go out,” Ianto said, setting the bottle of wine on the counter. “I’m not sure what you like, but this is one of my favourites.”

“That sounds lovely. You pour – I just have to get my earrings, then I’m ready. Corkscrew is in the first drawer on the left of the sink.” She strode down the hall, calling back to him as she moved off into another room.

Ianto was alone in the kitchen. He located the glasses, uncorked the wine and poured, immediately swallowing down a large gulp to fortify himself. He should just go home. He could spend the evening wanking, feeling guilty, and being pissed at Jack. It wouldn’t be a first.

Sometimes it would be nice to be a normal bloke – take a girl out on a Saturday night, drink too much, come home and have an awkward fumble, sneak out the next morning. A simple life, not too much to ask. Instead it was super-secret alien encounters, screwing his boss like the age-old secretarial archetype, and only stopping long enough in between to change shirts and wolf down stale leftover pizza. Sometimes, it was all a bit much. Ianto slugged back the rest of his wine and turned back to the counter to refill his glass.

As he poured, he heard Anna’s heels cross the linoleum. He set the bottle down and was about to turn and tell her that he should go when he felt her arms slide around his sides and circle his chest, hands resting just under the lapels of his jacket. The sense memory of Jack pressing against him like this just three days ago conflicted with the gentle waft of Anna’s perfume and the soft swell of her breasts pressed against his back – a sharp contrast to Jack’s hard, broad bulk. But she was tall enough to hook her chin over his shoulder, and the same sensation of warm breath on his ear made him shudder. 

“You look fantastic,” she murmured, and Ianto shivered again. His hand shook slightly, and he put his wine glass down on the counter. It rattled as it hit the marble countertop, and he quickly took his hand away. He felt Anna’s head shift, and the curl of her breath travelled along his neck. He was embarrassingly hard, and all his clear plans were beginning to fade away as she pressed against him. “If I’m coming on too strong, tell me.”

Ianto licked his lips and shook his head. “No, it’s not that.”

Anna slid a hand up his chest, covering his heart, which was pounding like a bass drum. “You’re nervous.”

“No. Okay, yes. A little.”

“I thought maybe we could stay in and have a quiet drink together. But if you’d rather go out, we can.” The vibrations of her voice tickled the fine hairs around his ear, and he made a faint but audible sound as he drew in his next breath. Her voice was low and husky, and if he closed his eyes for a moment, it was confusingly like having Jack wrapped around him. But she shifted and instead of an insistent hardness pressing against his arse, it was rounded, female curves, and very soft lips now moving against his neck.

Oh, he was in so much trouble.

“So, what do you think, Ianto?”

He turned in her arms, and she gave him enough room to accommodate his movement. Her arms stayed around him, but she carefully kept space between them. He had expected her to have that same uncompromising, predatory look that Jack got when he was stalking Ianto after hours in the Hub, but instead her expression was gentle, patient. She knew what she wanted, she was hoping to get it, but she would let him choose rather than force the issue. 

It was a sense of agency he hadn’t felt in a long time – whatever he had with Jack was inescapable, something he was at the mercy of. This wasn’t like that. She was nice. She liked him. He liked her. Simple. Easy. 

Ianto slid his hands around her waist and pulled her close, trying to maintain his composure as her hips shifted and pressed against him. “I’d like that. Very much. But...” he trailed off, trying to think of what could follow that qualifier that he could actually say and not sound like a nutter. He shook his head, and shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

She tilted her head and the corner of her mouth curled up in amusement. “It always is.” She leaned in and kissed him tenderly, then leaned back again. “I like you. I think you’re sweet, and attractive. We’re both adults, with lives – and yes, it’s complicated.” She shifted her hips against him, and he had to struggle to keep his eyes from fluttering closed, but he couldn’t help the slight push and tilt of his hips in return. “But this doesn’t have to be.” 

His hand strayed up along the curve of her spine, trailing along the skin exposed by the low back of her blouse. Her eyes darkened and she moved against him again, sighing pleasantly. Ianto had a last, fleeting thought that he might live to regret this, but also that he didn’t care much about tomorrow at this point. He cupped a hand behind her head, fingers woven in her thick, dark hair, and kissed her deeply. The wine stayed on the counter, forgotten. 

It wasn’t until he made his way home late the next morning that he remembered to turn his mobile tracking back on.


	6. Chapter 6

“Ianto. Ianto?”

Ianto blinked, focusing on Gwen’s face in front of him. He shook off the memory of soft, warm thighs clamped around him and focused on reality. He smiled politely. “Yes, sorry. In my own little world.”

Gwen gave him a knowing look. “Ianto Jones, what have you been up to?”

He straightened nervously. “What do you mean?”

She shook her head and set her hands on her hips. “Don’t give me that – I know a well-shagged look when I see one. Go on, then. Must have been something special if Jack’s got you this starry-eyed. And it’s only ten in the morning too, you dirty boys.”

Ianto paled. He heard footsteps above them, and glanced up to see Jack going into his office, attention buried in the file folder he was flipping through as he walked in and closed the door. Oh god, if Gwen could see it, then Jack would see it in an instant. And he was certain that no amount of ‘it’s not your business’ would keep Jack out of it. 

Gwen’s teasing look faded into one of concern. “Ianto? What’s wrong?”

He looked back at Gwen, unsure what to say. He didn’t have to bother though – her eyes went impossibly wide, and her mouth dropped open. 

“It wasn’t Jack!” Her gape was quickly turning into an evil grin. “It wasn’t, was it?”

Ianto grabbed her by the elbow, spinning her around and marching her out of the main area over to one of the side access tunnels. “Gwen, it is none of your business.”

That line didn’t work with her either, and she was on him like a rabid dog, questions flying. “Did you meet someone? Does Jack know?” She broke out of his grip and made a little excited hop. “Ooh, was he there too? Oh come on, give a boring old married girl some fantasy fodder.”

Ianto gaped at her, sputtering indignantly. “Okay, that’s just – just no. And no, Jack doesn’t know. He said if I didn’t want to tell him, I didn’t have to. And it’s nothing, just someone I met up with on Saturday.”

Gwen crossed her arms and grinned. “Well must have been pretty good, because it’s Monday morning and you’re still in dreamland.”

He looked heavenward, closing his eyes and praying for patience. “Look, Gwen. Please. My personal life is complicated enough. Leave it for now, okay?”

She sighed, disappointed, but then hopped across and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. “Well, fine then. Keep your salacious details to yourself. But well done, you. Glad to see you getting out.”

Ianto endured her embrace until she released him and skipped back to the main area. Ianto followed, and from the corner of his eye caught movement. Jack was standing at the window of his office, watching Ianto. Jack raised his eyebrow when Ianto met his eyes, but Ianto quickly looked away and dashed off for the Archives and his very long to-do list. Best keep himself busy today, and wait for his apparently obvious afterglow to fade.

 

***

 

A week later, Ianto walked through the inviting doors to the coffee shop and saw a queue at the counter, with a diligent pair of employees pulling shots and making drinks. Anna, however, had set up shop at a table in the back, ledgers and bills spread around her.

“Hello, Anna.” Ianto stopped by her table, tentatively calling her name. It was the first time he’d seen her after their night together, and he wasn’t sure what kind of reception he’d get. He wasn’t sure the etiquette in a situation like this, whether or not he was supposed to stop coming into the shop now.

He shouldn’t have worried. She looked up, and as soon as she saw him her face lit up. “Ianto! Hi, glad you dropped in.” She rose and gave him a warm hug, then ushered him into the seat across from her. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

He pondered the grey rain outside the shop, watching passers by huddle in the rain as they made their way home from work. A good number of them ducked in for a quick to-go coffee, so they must be doing a fair trade each day. Anna was quickly back with a warm latte for each of them, sliding into her chair. 

“How are you?” she asked. 

He assessed her carefully, looking for any sign that he’d made a terrible mistake, but there was none. He’d run her name through every database that Torchwood had access too, and as far as he could tell, Anna Davies was exactly what she appeared to be – a young business owner, Cardiff born and raised, making do in a tough economy. No marriages, boyfriends or kids, no criminal history, no unusual debts or incomes, nothing. Ianto was so used to things being more than they seemed that he felt slightly uncomfortable with the idea that Anna was just a regular person. He had no business dragging a regular person into his life. Torchwood didn’t leave room for a life outside work, and there’d be nothing but pain if he tried. 

Never mind using someone to get back at Jack, even if it was a pointless effort that Jack wouldn’t even know about, let alone care about if he did find out. 

Anna looked at him over the rim of her cup, her smile dimming. “Regrets, then?”

He shook his head, looking at the table. “No. No, I had a lovely time.” He glanced up at her, eyes flickering down to a small bruise on her neck that barely peeked over the collar of her shirt, and a small smile tilted his lips. It had been a very, very enjoyable time, for both of them.

Anna reached out and took one of his hands. “I’m glad. I had fun. I hoped we could do it again sometime.” Ianto froze, and Anna must have felt the tension in his body. She tilted her head. “There it is. There’s the problem. What is it?”

He sighed, looking at her. “You remember I said it’s complicated. I’m just not sure how much room I have in my life for… relationships.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Relationships?” He watched thoughts play across her features, and eventually her eyes narrowed as she inspected him. “You mean grocery shopping, couples dinner parties, and evenings at home watching telly together?” She released his hand and sat back in her chair. She glanced around the shop, and nodded meaningfully at the giant pile of paperwork on the table that she’d pushed to one side. “No offence, but perhaps you’ve noticed I don’t have a lot of time for relationships myself.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t think of anything more intelligent than that. He hadn’t quite expected that answer, and the rest of his prepared speech was suddenly irrelevant at this point. He floundered around unsuccessfully for something to say. 

After another moment of looking at him reproachfully, Anna leaned forward. “Look, Ianto. Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear the other night. I like you. I think we have some fantastic chemistry. Not only that, you’re clearly someone with your own life and your own priorities. I’m not exactly the marriage and kids kind of girl, but sometimes it’s nice to have something outside work.” She reached for his hand again, gently stroking the inside of his wrist. “I got the feeling the same might be true for you. It doesn’t have to be serious. There’s no reason we can’t have a little fun.”

It took Ianto two or three breaths to compose himself, remembering her fingers running along the inside of his thighs just like that, the feeling of her mouth on him. The idea of guilt-free sex with someone to whom he was actually attracted, and an opportunity to distract himself from Jack and know he wasn’t hurting anyone... “That’s – well, that sounds brilliant, actually.”

She grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I have to confess, I wasn’t sure that was going to fly with you. You seem like a nice Welsh boy – I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve had to break it to some poor bloke who’s looking for someone to bring home to meet the parents.”

Ianto snorted, trying to think of the unlikely scenario of him bringing someone home. He was struck by the imagine of Jack sitting at the family dinner table, Tad staring him down across the table with Jack blissfully ignorant and telling bawdy jokes, hitting on Johnny and Rhi both while Mam tried to force more mashed potatoes on everyone and pretended they were all having a wonderful time. 

“I think we’re good,” he said. He glanced out the window at the black Torchwood SUV, then back to Anna. “I’d like to see you again, but my schedule can be a bit unpredictable.”

He waited to see if Anna took the bait and made any unusual inquiries towards his work, movements, or activities. If she were trying to get in with him to pump him for information, he’d rather know now – background checks only went so far. She merely nodded understandingly.

“Well, I’m free most Saturday nights – I have a weekend manager who takes care of Sunday, so it’s my day off. And if you’re here on, oh, say Wednesdays around 2:00pm, the place is usually deserted and I’ve got a room in the back with a lock on it.” She winked at him and gave him a lascivious grin, and he felt a faint stir in his groin at the images that evoked. 

“If you don’t stop, I’ll have to sit her for some time before I can leave with any dignity.”

They finished their lattes, chatting and flirting mercilessly, before Ianto realized it he’d been there nearly an hour. He started when he realized the time, and jumped up. “I really have to dash, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got to get back to work on all this, too. I was already planning to be here all night, so what’s another hour?”

He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks. I’ll talk to you soon?”

“You know where to find me.”

He hurried from the café and back to Torchwood.

 

***

 

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Ianto whirled around, holding the file folder in front of him like a shield. Jack was leaning against the doorway, hands tucked in his trousers and looking dangerously indifferent. Ianto could tell from the set of his shoulders that he was anything but.

“I haven’t.”

Jack pushed off the wall, slowly encroaching on him. “You have.”

Ianto backed into the table, which effectively cut off any further retreat. Jack slid into his personal space like it was his own, and Ianto struggled to hold his ground without leaning back. Jack set his hands at Ianto’s waist.

“I haven’t,” Ianto said again, but it was a weak protest and they both knew it. Alarm bells were ringing loud and clear, and suddenly the idea of playing games with Jack seemed foolish in the extreme. The nagging of a guilty conscience had made him dodge Jack for the last few days, unable to quite look him in the eye without thinking he’d done something wrong, and there was no denying it. 

“You’ve been disappearing. Avoiding me. Been… distracted.” Jack ran his hand up Ianto’s side and tugged at his tie, loosening it off and unbuttoning the first button, and then the second. “I’m getting dangerously close to worried. Anything I should know?”

Jack was down to the button at his navel, and then his warm hand slid into Ianto’s shirt. He circled one nipple and then tweaked it gently. Ianto gripped the table and swallowed hard, feeling the blood rushing to his groin. “No. You, ah, don’t have to worry, Jack.” He tried to keep his voice level, but Jack was giving his other nipple the same treatment, and it was very, very distracting.

“I don’t know what to think. I’m not sure I like you keeping secrets, Ianto. You’re too good at it.” Jack gave his shirt a good yank to untuck it. One hand continued to toy with Ianto’s nipple while he ran his fingers in a light trail up the front of Ianto’s trousers, making him twitch and harden further. “I remember what happened the last time you kept secrets from me.”

He looked up in alarm and met Jack’s hard blue eyes. Confusion and fear mixed with arousal, and he stammered for some kind of response, but Jack ran his fingers back down the length of him, firmer this time, and he shuddered, momentarily robbed of speech. 

Jack leaned into him, lips brushing Ianto’s ear. “Well?”

Finally regaining some sense of himself, Ianto brought his hands up to undo the buttons of Jack’s navy waistcoat to try and even the playing field, hoping to distract Jack in return and put him off his hunt. Jack grabbed his wrists and held them firm, bringing Ianto up short. 

“I’m serious. I need to know whatever is going on isn’t going to affect Torchwood.” There was no humour or teasing left in his words, just a cold and impersonal demand.

Ianto swallowed, feeling the ground beneath him shift. He didn’t want to give up his tiny bit power, but he wouldn’t risk everything else for it. He compromised, playing on Jack’s earlier words. “You said if it was none of your business, you’d leave it. It’s personal. Nothing to do with work.”

Jack cocked an eyebrow. “Really.”

He nodded firmly, with a confidence he didn’t feel. “Yes. You don’t need to worry. So, since you don’t seem to do jealousy, and it’s none of your business as my boss, perhaps you can leave it now.” It was a pointed jab, but Jack didn’t seem to notice it.

“Don’t turn off your tracking again, and I’ll leave it. It’s irresponsible.”

“No. It’s not unreasonable to expect an ounce of privacy now and again.” The refusal was childish given the frequent and dangerous situations that they tumbled into, and his tone had all the authority of a recalcitrant teenager fighting curfew, but he stuck out his chin and stared Jack down. It was one thing for Jack to know he was sleeping with someone; it was something else entirely for him to know where and when - and who, if he put in a bit of effort.

Jack narrowed his eyes, and pushed aside Ianto’s gaping shirt to expose a small bruise on his collarbone, a half-moon of tooth marks delivered in the heat of passion. Jack ran his thumb across it, and his expression shifted to guarded amusement. 

He couldn’t say if it was the amusement itself, or the condescension inherent in it that rankled more, but Ianto was hard pressed to keep the blood from rising to his face. He spun away from Jack and turned to the table behind him, picking up the file folder he’d been holding when Jack came in. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Without warning, Jack’s hands ran under his loose shirt and over his abdomen, then down around the front of his trousers to firmly cup his still-hard cock. It was fast and unexpected, and Ianto gasped and doubled forward, bracing his arms on the table. 

“Are you sure we’re done here?”

He wanted to be furious and thrust Jack away, but Jack stroked him through the thin fabric and he squeezed his eyes closed with a groan. He automatically pushed back against Jack, who was hard and straining. Goddamn it. Every single time, no matter what, he always wanted Jack.

“No sir, I don’t think we are.”


	7. Chapter 7

He met Anna twice more in the following month – once on the excuse of a coffee run on one of those quiet Wednesdays she’d mentioned, and again on a Saturday night. He was self-aware enough to know that each time he’d arranged to meet her had followed a moment of irritation with Jack. When he came back after the first time, Jack had merely glanced at him askance, then moved on without a second thought. Gwen had caught him leaving early the second time – early for him, anyway – and gave him a knowing look, which he’d studiously ignored. Jack was nowhere to be seen, and Ianto tried not to feel disappointed at the lack of chance to rub his face in it.

Anna was refreshingly normal. She was pleasant enough company, and great in bed. Being with Jack had taught him quite a few things about the human body’s capacity for pleasure, and it was refreshing to have a female body to wrap himself around and sink into. For hours he’d lost himself in her, mouth covering every inch of her, sucking and licking and exploring. For a few precious hours, Torchwood was driven from his mind, and the complexity of life dropped away. He was Ianto Jones, normal bloke, shagging a normal girl from his normal hometown. Okay, maybe calling Cardiff normal was pushing it.

As he lay there, panting and drenched in sweat next to Anna’s exhausted body, he stared at the ceiling above her bed wondering whether or not this was the life he would have preferred. In these moments of stillness, he couldn’t honestly say. But then the world would start to turn again, he’d gather his clothes and kiss her goodnight, and it was back to normal. 

Ianto Jones, Torchwood agent, pathetic devotee of Jack Harkness. Wouldn’t that look lovely on a business card.

As the weeks rolled by, it became clear that Jack suddenly couldn’t keep his hands off him. Between that and seeing Anna on occasion, he was feeling pleasantly wrecked. His own appetite for sex seemed to have only increased for having two willing people in his life, and though Jack had gone to the trouble of reiterating that he wasn’t jealous, he certainly seemed to be marking his territory. He’d given Ianto such a thorough pounding one night that Ianto had been unable to walk straight the next day, and Jack had looked insufferably smug every time he noticed Ianto wince. 

Ianto gave as good as he got in return. They’d pounce on each other unawares, see who could make the other one come first, sucking each other off in places where anyone could walk in, then hastily pulling off when someone approached, leaving one of them frantic and scrambling to do up their clothing and pretend they weren’t inches from coming. If the way that Toshiko had taken to loudly narrating her movements around the Hub as she entered rooms and hallways was any indication, nobody was fooled by their so-called discretion.

And then, a week and a half of insane rift activity had them running non-stop around the city. A bizarre hallucinogenic mould had taken hold in the sewers, causing mass hysteria before they’d managed to get to the water distribution and treatment plants, which had been a huge operation. A flock of what looked like giant bats had come through and nested in the belfry at Llandaff cathedral, which had resulted in he and Owen using flamethrowers to flush them out while Tosh, Jack and Gwen manned the electrified nets to try and trap them. The increased activity also seemed to have riled the weevils, because there were incident reports all over the city, and they were run ragged trying to hunt them all down. 

When it was all said and done and there was a lull, Ianto collapsed in his bed and slept for nearly a day. He woke in the middle of the next day, still dressed in a rumpled suit with streaks of mud and weevil bile. With no small measure of disgust he dragged himself into the shower, scrubbing away the layer of filth that felt thick enough to have accumulated over the last two weeks. 

He got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, feeling marginally like a human being again. But when he’d just been contemplating a slow afternoon, his mobile buzzed. He grabbed it and checked the text.

_Get that pretty arse of yours over here, there’s another rift spike - JH_

Ianto sighed. Jack really didn’t need to mark his territory - Ianto practically had “Property of Torchwood” stamped across his apparently pretty arse, which was as good as saying “Property of Jack Harkness.” He still couldn’t decide if he minded or not.

 

***

 

Ianto cautiously uncovered his head and looked up. The whirlwind had died down, and he, Gwen and Owen were finally able to crawl out from under the table where they’d taken refuge. The Hub looked like a tornado had blown through, with papers everywhere and some furniture knocked asunder. 

Tosh looked up from her workstation, slightly sheepish. She’d managed to keep her place at her workstation through it, but her hair was a wild tangle, and she swept it out of her face as best she could. “Sorry about that. Bit of a miscalculation with some of the internal security. The extractor fan might be too powerful.”

Just then, Jack walked up from the Archives, and looked around the place. “What the hell is this?” His hands were on his hips as he surveyed the disaster with irritation.

They were silent, shuffling their feet like naughty children. Tosh spoke up. “My fault. I’m fixing it now.”

Jack stabbed a finger at her. “Do it, and fast – this is ridiculous, I don’t want to see this again. And you two, get back to work. I said I wanted that report this morning,” he said, turning on Gwen and Owen, who were trying to hide giggles behind their hands. They nodded, sobering with some effort.

“And you,” Jack said, advancing on Ianto. Ianto raised an eyebrow, wondering how exactly he deserved a lecture in this situation. Jack narrowed his eyes, a mischievous spark making itself known. “You clean this mess up.” 

“Naturally, sir,” he said dryly. “I’ll assume this is some kind of punishment?” 

He expected some lewd rejoinder from Jack, but instead Jack cocked his head, turning serious. “I don’t know, is there something you think you’ve done that requires punishment, Ianto?” It was a gentle prompt, as though he’d allow Ianto the opportunity to confess, if he would like.

The cool but polite smile that Ianto often hid behind shattered, and he stared at Jack in dismay, the by-now familiar feeling of guilt rattling loudly at the back of his thoughts. He’d seen Anna the night before, at her request this time rather than for own motivations, and he’d had a subtle weight on his chest all day every time he looked at Jack and thought of it. He had been dodging Jack’s advances and keeping his head down all day.

Gwen, Owen and Tosh were looking back and forth between them like it was a tennis match, but when Jack glanced over at them, they quickly scattered to their respective tasks with hasty and clumsy attempts to pretend they hadn’t been eavesdropping. Jack turned back to him, folded his arms across his chest, and waited.

If Jack expected some kind of groveling confession about someone he was seeing on the side when Jack had already made it clear that he couldn’t be bothered to care, he was about to be sorely disappointed. Ianto spun away and grabbed a bin liner without comment, and started in on the bits of trash and papers that were scattered about. Jack watched him for a bit, then quietly left him to it.

After two hours of trying to put the space to rights while his irritation with Jack grew, and with Gwen and Owen sniping at each other with loud and grating insults while Tosh looked on disapprovingly between bouts of cursing at the security system, he’d had more than enough. He threw the bag in the corner next to the couch and grabbed his coat up from the table. He’d go drop into the coffee shop and see if Anna would be free this evening. It was too soon to see her again and was probably pushing it, but the very least he could have a pleasant coffee and get away from the Hub.

He heard a throat clear, and looked up to see Jack leaning on the railing on the second story, hip jutting out, looking down at him with an intent on his face. “Where you going, Ianto?”

“Out.” His answer was short and surly. 

“Right,” Jack said, straightening. Ianto waited for Jack to say something, but he just tucked his hands in his pockets and turned away. “Have fun.”

Ianto grit his teeth and left.

 

***

 

Jack looked him over, eyes darting head to toe, as Ianto stood at attention in front of Jack’s desk. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“Out.” 

Over the past weeks, this had become a familiar, even enjoyable, game. Jack had a radar sense for when Ianto had gotten to the point where he was about to run off, and always managed to find some reason to waylay him. The question had turned teasing, and that had devolved into mock interrogation sessions. After a few minutes Jack always let him go. Whenever Ianto returned, be it that night or the next day, they would have incredible sex on whatever surface happened to be nearest. It was becoming either a routine or a Pavlovian response, he wasn’t certain which.

Jack could have followed him at any time and discovered his trips to see Anna, but he seemed to have taken it as a challenge to instead get Ianto to confess the details of his affair with the mystery person in his life. And if Ianto chose to disappear at times when Jack was particularly inattentive, or when he was craving Jack’s attention – well, so be it. So far, the balancing act was worth the end result. Everyone seemed to be happy. More or less.

“I see.” Jack narrowed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “Fine. But take care of these first.” He held out the small box and files, but not far enough that Ianto could take them without walking over behind Jack’s desk. 

“What is it?”

“Just transferred from UNIT. It should go down in special storage – it’s on the delicate side. As in very explosive and will remove the British Isles from the map if not stored carefully.”

That described half the contents of the Archives, special or not. “Noted. I’ll deal with it when I’m back.”

“No. Now.”

Ianto rolled his eyes at Jack’s obvious power play, but it was just another part of the game. He walked around and reached for the items. He got no farther before Jack grasped his outstretched wrist and pulled him across his lap, dropping the box on his desk. So much for highly delicate. Ianto let out a huff of breath in surprise, landing hard on his backside across Jack’s knees. 

Well, this was new.

Jack’s face was lower than his, and he looked down into clear blue eyes. Jack was still smiling, but searching him intently. “You’re killing me, here. Who are you seeing?”

Ianto gave him a small, reserved smile. “Why? Jealous?”

“Curious,” Jack corrected. He slipped a hand under the back of Ianto’s jacket, gently rubbing at the small of Ianto’s back, looking up at Ianto thoughtfully. “Do you know what compersion is?”

Jack’s other hand was stroking his thigh, and it was growing distracting. He shook his head. “No.” Jack’s fingers trailed higher, and Ianto twitched. 

“It’s emotional empathy – happiness for a lover because of the joy they find in someone else.” He trailed a hand up and cupped Ianto’s cheek, drawing Ianto’s attention back to his sincere gaze. “He makes you happy.”

“She,” Ianto automatically corrected, then frowned at the slip. To his credit, Jack didn’t gloat over the small bit of ground gained. In fact, he still looked unsettlingly honest and open. It wasn’t something Ianto was used to, and he shifted uncomfortably in Jack’s lap, but he didn’t stand. “Look, Jack, it’s nothing serious. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but it’s nothing.” He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to justify himself.

Jack stroked his cheek. “Four months isn’t nothing.”

Ianto paused, thinking back. Yes, it had been four months since he’d met Anna. It didn’t seem that long, what with the intermittency with which he saw her. And though he’d never given it much thought, her company was simple and straight-forward, and he enjoyed their aimless chats as much as the sex. However, the greatest satisfaction came from the attention it garnered from Jack every time he slipped away.

“I suppose not,” Ianto conceded. “But still–”

Jack pulled him down for a gentle kiss, cutting him off. It was tender, and unlike Jack’s usual kisses, and he rested his forehead against Ianto’s after with a sigh. “But still. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Ianto didn’t know what to say. Jack didn’t exactly sound happy, and yet he seemed sincere. Ianto felt a stir of guilt. “Thanks,” he settled on.

“Now,” Jack said, and suddenly the wicked smile was back, the other Jack locked back behind the persona Ianto knew. Jack’s fingers pressed into his thigh again, making themselves known, and then slipped between his legs. Ianto watched Jack’s hand move along the charcoal fabric, relieved at the shift back into familiar territory. “Do you want to tell me where you’re going?”

Ianto tilted his head as though considering Jack’s words, then pursed his lips. “No sir, I don’t believe that I do.”

Jack’s hand drifted higher, following the seam of his trouser leg. “Anything I could do to convince you?” 

“I’m very difficult to convince.” 

In a swift move, Jack maneuvered him so that Ianto was straddling Jack’s lap. Jack widened his legs so that Ianto’s were spread wide, and he moved his chair so that Ianto as trapped between Jack and the desk. The hard edge of it pressed into his lower back, and he was forced to lean his hands back on the surface to keep it from digging in too hard.

“You really should tell me, Ianto. Make it easy on yourself.” Jack grabbed his tie, tugging on it lightly, raising an eyebrow in mock warning.

Ianto’s cock twitched at the growl of Jack’s silly threat, and he stared down at Jack. “Never. Sir.” 

With a sigh, Jack shook his head in exaggerated disappointment. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Jack undid Ianto’s belt and zipper, freeing his growing erection and pulling his trousers and pants down as far as they would go. It left his arse and cock exposed, but the bunched material pressed and rubbed against his balls when he shifted, and he swallowed hard. Jack considered him for a moment, and Ianto could see the wheels turning as he planned his next action.

With a swift yank, Ianto’s tie was next to go. Jack pulled it free, making a show of unknotting it, and Ianto watched him in anticipation, uncertain what he was thinking. Then Jack took the silk looped it around his cock and balls, knotting it tightly. It clamped down around the base of his cock, pressing into the root and forcing his balls to tight attention. The taut, stretched skin rubbed against the fabric of his pants and trousers, and Ianto grew even harder, his mouth falling open with a breathy sigh. Jack drew the knot tighter, watching Ianto’s face carefully, and the squeeze and rub made Ianto groan audibly, his eyes drifting closed.

“Ianto,” Jack said. Ianto forced his eyes open to find Jack looking at him with a hungry expression. “Look at me. I want to watch you.” He stroked the end of the tie down the tight skin, watching carefully as Ianto shivered under his touch. Again, and Ianto’s cock bobbed eagerly against his stomach. 

“You sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?” Jack prompted, though he’d lost the hard, playful edge, and his voice was almost tender.

Flushed and warm, pinned between Jack and the desk, Ianto’s voice cracked as Jack stroked him with the tie again. “N-no.”

Lube materialized from the desk drawer into Jack’s hands, and the sudden wet slide down his cock made his eyes close again, and he thrust up into Jack’s hand, though his range of motion was severely limited by his trousers around his thighs. The tight skin of his testicles rubbed against the light material of his shorts as he pushed up, and the smooth and rough stimulation at once was enough to make him gasp a curse out loud.

“Ianto. Look at me.”

Fighting the instinct to close his eyes from the pleasurable glide of the smooth strokes, he obeyed Jack. Behind the hunger, there was something else, something keen and searching. Jack’s other hand reached between his open legs, circling and stroking the cleft of his arse, and Ianto clenched and whimpered through his teeth again. But he struggled to keep his eyes open, and was rewarded with the sight of Jack’s mouth parting, his eyes hooded and dark, panting with his own desire as he watched Ianto squirm in his lap.

A finger slipped into him as there was another firm stroke on his cock, and he moaned. Jack made an echoing noise, low and rough, and Ianto tightened around Jack’s probing finger. His back was rigid, spine flattening out, and he leaned back onto his elbows to take the strain off his shaking wrists. He stared down his body as Jack worked him, shuddering with the effort to hold Jack’s gaze. Jack’s hand moved rhythmically up and down, his breath rising and falling with each movement, eyes never leaving Ianto’s face. 

Jack had two fingers in him now, and despite his best efforts, Ianto’s head fell back with a long groan and his eyes fell closed. 

“I’m so close, Jack,” he panted. “God, I’m–“ Jack’s fingers curled in him, and his words were cut off with high pitched cry of almost painful pleasure, and he was reduced to pleading. “Please, oh Jesus, please Jack–“

“Ianto. Please, look at me. I want to see you.” It could have been a command, but it was a soft plea, and with monumental effort, Ianto lifted his head to look a Jack.

Jack’s hair had fallen across his forehead in a soft brush, and his cheeks were flushed with arousal, his lips dark. He was staring at Ianto with such desperate longing that it make Ianto’s heart clench painfully. There was none of Jack’s smugness, none of his playful sensuality. For once, it didn’t feel like a game, and Ianto felt caution desert him in the face of Jack’s naked desire.

His orgasm was rushing up on him, making him tense, robbing him of reason, and he knew there was too much honesty in his own face, but he couldn’t tear himself away to hide it. There was such tenderness in Jack, and he let himself believe in it, let himself believe that it as real. Feelings he ruthlessly shoved into the back reaches of his mind burst forth with a burning intensity. He almost cried out with relief to let himself feel it, to imagine he saw it in Jack, reflected back at him. 

“Ianto,” Jack whispered, his voice cracking. “Ianto, yes.” His hand slid quicker, his fingers curling firmly, and Ianto shook violently as his body clenched tighter and tighter.

“Jack,” he sobbed, losing himself in Jack’s eyes, in the gentle invitation he imagined he saw there. Dammit, he couldn’t stop himself. “Jack, I–“

The words he never, ever meant to say were on the tip of his tongue when Jack stroked again, his thumb sweeping down and over the sensitive skin of his aching, tight balls. His orgasm overtook him, and the confession was lost in a strangled cry. He flung his head back as his body arched and hips rose, and Jack leaned forward to take him into his mouth, sucking and stroking and swallowing as Ianto rode out the pulsing waves, soft flicks of Jack’s tongue and twitches of his fingers causing spikes of agonizing pleasure that made Ianto’s muscles clench and shake. 

As Jack brought him back down, he came back to himself with a start of despair at what he knew he’d almost revealed in a moment of weakness and ultimate stupidity. Jack’s mouth released him, and gentle fingers pried loose the knotted tie. He sighed with relief as the tension eased, and he felt hands slide under his back to help him upright. He let Jack hitch up his pants and trousers. 

Rather than face Jack immediately, he draped forward, resting his forehead in Jack’s shoulder. Jack stroked his back and kissed the side of his neck, and Ianto caught his breath and let his roaring heartbeat settle. Jack was humming quietly, a soothing sound that coincided with the stroking of his back. 

“Will you be back tonight?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it.” Ianto turned his head to the side, resting his cheek on Jack’s shoulder, the back of his head in the curve of Jack’s neck. “Do you want me to?”

“Yeah. You could stay with me again. It’d be nice.”

Ianto bit the inside of his cheek to keep his feeling at bay. He didn’t understand Jack like this. Grasping for some kind of control, he slid a hand between them and down to cup Jack’s painfully hard cock through his heavy trousers, but Jack pulled him away with a gentle tug on his arm.

“You don’t have to. Later, if you like.”

Another soft kiss, on the back of his neck this time. He couldn’t bear it; Jack’s intensity and his tenderness, all of it was too much. He was losing his ability to know where the line was.

Before the contents of his heart came out in one long blathering, sentimental confession, Ianto pulled away and slid back off Jack’s lap. The muscles in his legs were shaking, but he held himself upright as he fastened his trousers and his belt. Avoiding Jack’s eyes, he snatched his tie from Jack’s lap and stuffed it in his pocket. 

“I’ll come back this evening, then.” He turned away, fussing at his hair and tucking in his shirt, busying himself with anything to keep from looking at Jack.

When he felt composed enough to meet Jack’s eyes again, he looked up. Jack was watching him with a stony expression, slouching back in his chair, his arms resting limply on the armrests of the chair. Ianto felt his chest tighten painfully, unable to interpret what that expression meant. He hid behind his stoic mask once again, aiming for dry humour to cover his discomfiture. 

“I’m afraid you’ve failed to convince me. You’ll have to try harder next time, sir.” The weak joke failed to bring even a hint of a smile, and Ianto struggled not to turn and flee outright. 

Jack slowly straightened and tucked his chair into his desk, beginning to rustle through the stacks of paper they’d unsettled. He kept his eyes on his task, not looking up. “I guess so. Have a good afternoon, Ianto.”

While he cringed inwardly at the cool dismissal, he managed to walk out of Jack’s office with a modicum of dignity. No longer feeling like seeking out Anna’s company, he opted instead to go home. He crawled into bed, exhausted. When he closed his eyes, all he could see was Jack’s face, longing and desperately tender, and it haunted him. 

He didn’t understand this game with Jack. He wasn’t sure he wanted to play it anymore – it seemed like the only thing he could do was lose.


	8. Chapter 8

Now it was Jack who was avoiding Ianto.

Orders started coming by way of the rest of the team, and Jack seemed to be going out of his way to be visibly occupied or just plain absent in the evenings when normally they were both working extra hours. When Gwen brought him a cup of terrible coffee one day with an exaggerated expression of sympathy on her face, gave him a pat on the shoulder and told him it would pass soon, he knew he had to do something to break himself out of his funk. He shouldn’t fall apart just because Jack was too busy for him. 

As Ianto was standing in the middle of the Hub trying not to be too obvious in watching Jack’s office as he went about his daily tasks, his mobile buzzed with a text.

_You free tomorrow afternoon? – Anna_

He stared at the message, contemplating. He hadn’t seen her in weeks, and he didn’t particularly want to see her now – sex was the farthest thing from his mind. Still, he was haunting Torchwood like a morose spirit, bumbling around like an ignored lapdog in an effort to be available whenever Jack decided to share his attentions again. It wouldn’t do. It was beneath him to behave like this. At least he could go have coffee with her, perhaps pretend to be pleasant company for a few minutes. It was better than enduring Gwen’s misguided attempts at sympathy and Owen’s condescending looks.

Making a decision, he pocketed the mobile and made his way to Toshiko’s desk. “Tosh?”

She looked up at him from her computer screen, head tilted back to blink at him owlishly through the glasses that had slipped down her nose. “Oh, hi Ianto. What’s up?”

“I’m on rift monitoring duty tomorrow afternoon, but something’s come up. Can you cover for me?”

She nodded. “Sure. I’m working on this decoding algorithm anyway, so it’s no trouble.” She glanced back to her screen, fingers obviously itching to keep working at it, and then back at Ianto. “Anything else?”

“No, that’s it. Thank you,” he said, and turned away as Tosh buried herself again in her work. 

He took his mobile out as he walked down the stairs and keyed in a response to Anna that he’d drop by her shop, and immediately received a happy confirmation. He dropped the mobile on the desk at his workstation, feeling marginally satisfied that he had something to do that wasn’t sitting about mooning after Jack. He sorted through the impressive stack of files on his desk, settling down to mind-numbing tasks to keep himself occupied.

Gwen materialized next to him and intruded on his concentration, tugging on her jacket as she spoke. “Come on. Jack wants us to check out a call-in over in Trowbridge.”

He nodded, glad of the further excuse to get out of the Hub. “Right, let me grab my jacket.” He strode up the stairs to where he’d left it hanging on the coat rack, and circled back to meet Gwen at the back entrance to the garage. He patted his pockets, but remembered that he’d left his mobile on the desk. “One minute,” he said, and Gwen nodded.

Not paying attention, he almost ran into Jack, who was just turning away from the workstation. Jack dropped the files in his hand on the desk with a thump, then folding his arms.

“Ianto,” he said with a formal nod.

“Jack.” 

This was the first time they’d exchanged words all week, and Ianto felt his heart in his throat from just this brief interaction. He ducked his head and shifted to reach past Jack. Jack didn’t move, and Ianto was forced to shuffle around him to get at his mobile, which was now buried under the stack of paperwork Jack had dropped off for him.

As he leaned over the desk past Jack, he felt more than saw Jack shift his gaze to check out his arse. He tried to hide the small flicker of satisfaction and relief that gave him, and made sure that his reach hitched up the back of his jacket a suitable amount before he straightened and tucked the mobile into his trouser pocket.

Jack was still standing with his arms folded, but there was now a glint of amusement in the firm set of his mouth, and he lazily looked Ianto over before he pivoted on his heel and headed for his office. “Have fun in Trowbridge.”

Ianto watched him go with a measure of relief. Perhaps his freeze-out was over. 

 

***

 

The next day he hoped to catch Jack alone, but Jack spent most of the morning in the conference room, consulting with Owen over some autopsy results. He resigned himself to more filing, and headed down to the Archives. When he resurfaced from the trance-like state that the repetitive task put him in, he realized that his stomach was growling and it was past noon. He came upstairs, but a quick inspection showed Jack was nowhere to be seen.

“Is Jack in?” asked Tosh, stopping by her desk.

She blinked up from the bank of computer screens she was focused on. “Mmm, no. I think he went out.”

“Another call?” He frowned, looking around. He saw Gwen at her desk, and Owen could be heard shuffling about in the medical bay. The anonymous call-in from Trowbridge turned out to be a dead end, but it could have been something related.

“Nope. Everything’s been quiet today.”

“Okay, thanks anyway.”

“No problem.” She turned back to the screens, promptly ignoring him.

Ianto puttered around for another hour or so, then gave up on trying to keep himself occupied. It was close enough to the time when he usually dropped in on Anna, so he might as well leave now – she wouldn’t mind if he were early. If she was busy, he could always grab a table and have a quiet read.

He drove across town, fingers tapping on the steering wheel in an arrhythmic tattoo, thinking about Jack and how he might corner him tonight. He parked the SUV quickly and strode into the shop, anticipating the short getaway from his thoughts and concerns.

The minute he was through the door, his easy smile faded and he ground to a halt. Leaning against the counter was a familiar shape – Jack at his most dashing, with a winning grin plastered on, laughing without reservation. Anna was giggling along with him, leaning her elbows on the counter in the way that she had that first day he’d met her, apparently captivated by Jack’s considerable charms. Ianto’s hands and feet went numb with shock at seeing this space invaded by Jack. 

Anna heard the door and turned to him, straightening and giving him a pleased smile. “Ianto! Hi, good to see you.” 

Jack turned with her and gave Ianto a little wave of his fingers, his wide grin undiminished.

Shock quickly turned into anger at Jack’s flippancy and cheek, and Ianto stared at him in icy fury. “What are you doing here, Jack?”

Jack shrugged, eyes wide with false innocence. “Thought I’d drop in and have a cup. Just chatting with Anna here – quite the entrepreneurial spirit, owning her own place like this. I can see why you like it here.”

“Really. And how, pray tell, did you get the recommendation?” The words were like broken glass, ground out in an even tone with a supreme effort.

“I’m resourceful.” Jack’s mouth twisted in a dry smile. “I got a text.”

His mobile, left lying on the desk. The bastard. The prying, nosy fucking bastard. Ianto thinned his lips in an effort to keep from shouting those words at Jack. His anger was fueled by the unreasonable panic of being caught out in his meaningless little fling, made worse by Jack’s intent gaze sitting upon him.

“You two know each other?” Anna glanced between them, seeing the tension in Ianto’s body and the shit-disturbing grin on Jack’s face.

Ianto swallowed down the desire to scream, answering Anna as calmly as possible. “We work together.”

Jack leaned over to Anna. “I’m his boss,” he said in a stage whisper.

She looked back and forth between them. “Must be quite the place, bunch of handsome blokes like you running around. How many more have you got squirreled away?” Her teasing joke was clearly pitched to ease the tension, but Ianto was too far gone for it to have any effect.

Jack, however, winked at her. “Oh, we’re all you need.” He rapped the counter with his knuckles and straightened. “Anyway, I need to be getting back.” He strode towards the door, and stopped in front of Ianto. 

Ianto seethed, clenching his fists tight at his sides. If Jack said another word, he wouldn’t be held responsible for his actions. He’d knock those bloody perfect teeth out of his head. Before he could even blink, however, Jack slid a hand along Ianto’s jaw and cupped the back of his head and captured his mouth in a passionate kiss.

It was the first kiss in weeks, and it wasn’t a halfway effort. Jack’s touch shorted out his brain with the sudden shock of it, his knees going weak as Jack’s tongue swept across his own, his kiss hard and deep, and Ianto couldn’t help but respond – his surroundings faded, and he was lost in the dizzy relief of having Jack’s attention at last. His hands were rising to reach out for him when Jack pulled back, nipping at Ianto’s bottom lip, and he smiled sweetly at Ianto’s dazed look. Then with a playful wink, he dodged around him, smacking him on the behind before walking out the door.

“You two have fun, now. Take the afternoon off if you like, Ianto.” The door closed behind him with the jingle of the shop bell, and he was off without a backward look.

Ianto swallowed unsteadily. He knew he was standing there gaping like a fish, uncomfortably aroused and completely disarmed, but he was discombobulated enough that he couldn’t do anything but continue to stand there stupidly. When he finally thought to look to Anna, he saw her staring at him, eyebrows halfway to her hairline and mouth perfectly round with shock and surprise.

He struggled for words, but a strange mix of emotions was clawing at his throat, making it difficult to speak. “That’s Jack. My boss. My… um.” He dragged his hand through his hair, absolutely lost for what to do or say. His pulse was pounding loud in his ears, and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. What was that supposed to be? What was Jack trying to say, or do? Why now, after ignoring this for so long, go out of his way to insert himself in the middle of it? His mind reeled.

Anna was at his side suddenly, pushing him into a chair. “Sit. Breathe.” 

A glass of water was placed in front of him, and he downed it in one go and sat back in the chair. He covered his face with his hands, resting his elbows on the table. He heard the scrape and creak of the chair opposite him as Anna sat down. He focused on slowing his breath and trying to compose himself.

“Is he your husband?”

Anna’s question was completely unexpected. He raised his head from his hands and looked at her in surprise, meeting her grave expression. “What – Jack? No, god no.”

“Boyfriend, then?” Her brow was creased in heavy concern.

“No, nothing like that. He really is my boss.” He stared down at the wood grain of the table. When you really got down to it, that’s all there was to it, so there was no need to glorify it with lengthy explanations.

“So you’re not cheating?”

“No.” He glanced up at her again, glum. “Certainly not from his perspective.”

“And from yours?”

“I–” Well, that was the question, wasn’t it? Why should he? “I don’t know.”

She rested her chin on her hands as she stared across the table at Ianto. “I’m not a home-wrecker. I don’t fancy the idea of being the other woman.”

Ianto shook his head in denial. “You’re not.”

“Then what am I?” she asked, and Ianto glanced up. She had a reproachful frown on her face. “Because you’re using me for something, Ianto. I’d just like to know what it is.”

He pulled back his hand back, sitting back into his chair with a flush of shame. “I didn’t mean to – it wasn’t anything like that. I–“

“Some kind of revenge? Or just trying to make him jealous?”

That forced a hard, short laugh from him. “Jack, jealous? No, not him. He doesn’t do jealous, apparently.” The look on Anna’s face darkened further, and Ianto rubbed a hand across his brow tiredly. “Bollocks. Anna, I’m sorry.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “I was honest with you, Ianto. I only asked the same courtesy in return.”

He dropped his head and stared at the water ring from his glass on the tabletop, unable to meet her gaze any longer. “I said it was complicated.”

“That you did. But if jealous lovers are likely to stroll into my place of business to check me out, you could do me the favour of warning me.”

“He’s not my–“ Ianto covered his eyes again with the palms of his hands, digging his fingers into his scalp with painful pressure. 

If it were that simple, that Jack was jealous and possessive, it’d be wonderful. But no, this was goddamn Jack Harkness, who made Ianto dance like a marionette with a crook of his finger, and yet didn’t give a damn about him other than the convenient warm body he provided now and again. But rather than let Ianto have with his petty attempts to garner Jack’s attention and the small illusion of control that provided him, Jack had to walk straight through it with his usual delicacy, ripping it apart and trampling over it right in front of Ianto’s eyes. 

And yet he still melted under Jack’s touch, desperate for his attention even in the face of the odd power play, or effort to humiliate him, or whatever that had been. He had no idea what Jack was thinking, but he highly suspected it was not to ride in on a white horse, kiss him senseless, claim Ianto as his one and only, and then carry him away into the sunset. 

Why couldn’t he stop caring? This would be so much easier if he didn’t care. His eyes stung, and he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes harder. 

“Ianto?” Anna’s voice was soft with concern. 

Her pity was the last thing he needed right now. If she was nice to him, he might actually cry. He drew a deep breath, struggling for control, and managed to drop his hands from his eyes to look at her. The stern expression had been lost in favour of worry, and she reached out to stroke his arm.

“If you love him this much…”

The words were like a punch to the gut. He’d never heard them out loud, from his mouth or anyone else’s, and the realization was like an inexorable wave of agony. “Shit,” he swore, his eyes stinging again. “Fuck, fuck fuck. I can’t – I shouldn’t.” His voice was shaking, but he was stuttering and babbling away. “I tried not to, I’m not supposed to – if he knew, if he found out – oh fuck, what am I _doing?_ ” He held the back of his hand over his mouth, stemming the words that wouldn’t seem to stop coming, horrified at his loss of control. 

Anna patted his arm in awkward concern until his distress subsided, and quietly handed him a paper napkin when he managed to collect himself enough to remove his hand and take it from her. With some embarrassment he wiped at his eyes, grateful that her shop was empty and at least this little episode had a limited audience.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

She shrugged. “We’ve all had our bad days.” She looked over his shoulder out the window, watching the cars go by in the street, the faint sounds of wheels splashing in water and engines roaring just audible in the shop. “I’ve certainly done my fair share of crying over boys.”

Ianto smiled faintly. “A first, for me.”

“What, the crying? Or the boys?” At his embarrassed look, she raised her eyebrows. “I see. Then this is even more complicated than I thought.”

He sighed. “You have no idea.”

Ianto’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out, grateful for the distraction. However, when he checked the text messages, he frowned in confusion. Not quite believing his eyes, he read it again. “Oh… oh.” He stared at the mobile.

“What?” Anna said, leaning forward, curious. “Is it him?”

“Yeah.” He blushed, reading the message again. 

“What?” She tilted her head, confused. “What is it?”

He didn’t answer, so with a swift swipe of her hand she snagged it. Before he could protest she read the message aloud. “Don’t forget to tell her how big the bed is.” She looked puzzled for a moment, but Ianto saw the moment the light bulb went on. Her eyes widened and she looked up at Ianto, mouth dropping open. “You’re kidding me.”

He felt his face flush hotter. “I’m really sorry about him.”

“So that was – that was what? My invitation to the threesome?” she said, her disbelief rapidly dissolving into hilarity, barely able to choke the words out before she started roaring with laughter until she was wiping away her own tears.

Ianto felt like a prize idiot. Here he was sniveling about bruised feelings, expecting some complicated motivation, and Jack was only working an angle to get them both into bed. If it hadn’t taken Ianto to pieces quite so effectively, it might have worked, too.

Actually, judging from the look on Anna’s face now that her guffaws had subsided, it might work anyway. How did Jack manage to do that? 

“At least you know how to pick ‘em,” she said, gently teasing him. “He’s not half bad.”

“He’s a twat,” Ianto said with a scowl, but his heart wasn’t in it, and Anna’s amusement was catching. He let himself be drawn into her laughter, even if it was at his own expense. 

 

***

 

Jack looked up in surprise as Ianto opened the door in his office. Ianto had waited until the end of the day when the others had gone home before coming back in to speak with Jack. He gave Jack an icy look from across the office.

“What are you doing here?” Jack asked cautiously, putting down his pen on the desk. “I told you that you could have the rest of the day off.”

“Are you pleased with yourself now?”

Jack sat back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head, regarding Ianto. “I’m pretty pleased, yeah,” he said after a moment.

Frustrated, he paced the length of Jack’s office, hands on his hips. “You are insane, Jack. You can’t just… just walk in there and stick your tongue down my throat in front of someone I’m…” he waved his hand inarticulately, grasping for a descriptor.

“Someone you’re what?”

“Sleeping with!”

Jack dropped his hands, leaning forward across the desk to eye him shrewdly. “And that’s it?”

Ianto stumbled for an answer, surprised at Jack’s prying question. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yet, that’s it.”

For a moment it seemed as though Jack didn’t believe him, and he was about to scramble to assure him when Jack spoke. “Okay, so why not, then?”

“Not everyone is like you, Jack!” Ianto cried, throwing his hands in the air. 

“More’s the pity,” Jack said, standing from his chair. “Look, I’m sorry you’re upset. But it’s better in the long run if you’re open about these sorts of things. You could be missing out on a world of opportunity if you insist on keeping your lovers separate.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You seemed to think you had to sneak around to see someone else, and I just made it all out in the open. See? No more need to feel guilty.”

No, that wasn’t what he was doing at all – and certainly wasn’t where the unnecessary guilt was coming from. And Jack called _him_ thick. He frowned unhappily at Jack. “You could have warned me.”

Jack shrugged and grinned at him. “The look on your face was priceless – definitely worth it.” 

Ianto groaned and turned away, rolling his eyes. “I can’t believe you sometimes.”

He felt heavy, firm hands fall on his shoulders and squeeze the tense muscles. Despite himself, he felt them unclench and relax under Jack’s ministrations. “Ianto, this isn’t a big deal. Was Anna okay?”

Ianto’s head fell forward as Jack massaged him. If he skipped over the part where he’d blurted out every secret he’d been trying to keep as far as Jack was concerned, and then after where she’d asked him if it wouldn’t be too callous towards Ianto’s feelings… “She looked like she’d won the lottery. Says she’s free on Saturday. Or Sunday. Or pretty much whenever we get a free minute, she’ll be there with bells on.”

Jack chuckled and cupped Ianto’s face, peering into it with a kind of hopeful optimism. “See? Not so bad after all.” He dropped a light kiss on Ianto’s forehead.

Ianto stared at him, confused. “What are you trying to do, Jack?” 

Jack gave him an odd look, almost consternated, and he actually looked at a loss for words. He pulled Ianto into a hug. “I’m trying to do something nice for you.”

The words sent an unexpected shiver down his spine, and it disarmed him, softening his defenses, and when Jack kissed him he closed his eyes and sunk into it. It seemed that, with his usual flair, Jack was giving him a gift. As unlikely as it was, Jack seemed to genuinely think he was making Ianto’s life better. But, Jack being Jack, he was as subtle about it as a brick to the face, and the effect was just as pleasant.

He’d take it, then, if that’s what was on offer. Ianto brought his arms up to circle around Jack’s neck, deepening the kiss, grateful for the odd sign of affection – it was generous in a way, if completely misguided.

Jack’s hands moved on him, and he let Jack strip him of his jacket and waistcoat, unresisting as Jack kissed down his throat, down his chest, working down to nose at the zipper of his trousers. With deft ease, Jack flicked unbuckled the belt and opened the fastenings and took Ianto’s cock in his mouth.

Ianto hissed at the wet heat of Jack’s mouth, his hand sliding into Jack’s dark, soft hair. He resisted the urge to tighten his grip and pull, letting his hands rest lightly as Jack’s head bobbed, his hair brushing the skin of Ianto’s palms. He dropped his head to watch Jack, watching him lick and mouth at him, building until he was working Ianto in a relentless rhythm. He quickly forgot himself and fisted his hands in Jack’s hair, hips rocking back and forth, thrusting into Jack’s mouth. 

He moaned, quivering and hardening. “I’m – I’m going to–“ Jack pulled off him with a popping sound, and he gave a helpless, keening cry of need. “God, Jack, please–“ 

“Not yet,” Jack panted.

Just the sight of Jack kneeling before him, mouth glistening wet and eyes dark, threatened to carry him over the edge. He hunched forward, bracing his hands on Jack’s shoulders as he squeezed his eyes shut, grasping for mundane thoughts of paperwork and dry cleaning, anything to defuse his looming orgasm. When he was able, he opened his eyes and stared down at Jack again, breath ragged, hands twisting in the cotton of his shirt, desperate, waiting.

Jack took his hands and kissed the back of them, then rose and pulled Ianto towards the hatch to his room below the office. “Come on. I have an idea. It’ll be fun.” Ianto staggered after him.

Before he knew it he was tied to Jack’s bed, nearly incoherent with pleasure as Jack teased him to the breaking point again and again. He worked a dildo in Ianto’s arse while sucking him off, intermittently pausing to point out that his workload would be cut in half if Ianto would just consent to let both Jack and Anna fuck him at the same time. Ianto came with Jack riding him, narrating lurid fantasies in his ear. He shuddered and bucked into Jack, clenching around the dildo that was still inside him, hard and thick and unyielding. 

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry as Jack released him and cleaned him up, tenderly rolling him over and tucking up behind him in the bed and pulling the blanket over them. 

Snuggled to sleep by Jack Harkness. As if this entire thing wasn’t bizarre and incomprehensible enough.


	9. Chapter 9

Ianto jerked awake as the SUV door slammed, and with a disoriented snort he sat bolt upright. He swung around to see Gwen settling herself in the driver’s seat and putting the key to the ignition. 

“What happened?” he croaked, voice still hoarse with sleep.

“You fell asleep on the way here,” Gwen said as she turned the engine over. “I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

“But–“

“It was just tourists. Took a wrong turn and landed here. They realized they needed some information on our atmosphere composition and gravity to take off safely, so they were busy collecting some readings. I got Tosh on the radio, she got them sorted.” She leaned forward and peered out the windshield towards the sky. “Yup – there. You can still see them.”

Ianto tried to lean forward, but jerked to a halt when he hit the limit of his seatbelt restraint. He fumbled for the latch and freed himself, and then scooted forward to see the last fading jet trail of the ship breaking atmosphere. 

“Bollocks,” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. “You should have woken me.” He hadn’t slept well in weeks, and it was starting to catch up with him. He’d spent the past few weeks working to keep his mind off Jack entirely until he was so exhausted that he could drop off to sleep instantly each night. It hadn’t achieved him anything other than fatigue and a bad mood.

Gwen sighed as she considered him, then shut the vehicle engine off and leaned back in her seat. With dread he noticed the look on her face – he was in for a well-intentioned inquiry towards his welfare. Damn.

He turned away from her to stare out the passenger window at the drab countryside under the overcast sky. They’d had to drive several hours out of town to come to the landing site their monitoring system had picked up, and there was nothing but rolling hills and the patchwork of farm fences as far as the eye could see. Unless he planned to walk back to Cardiff, he’d have to sit here and bear Gwen’s prying questions.

“Ianto, love– ”

“Gwen, I’m fine. Just working long hours lately.”

“This is about Jack, isn’t it?”

Yes. “No. It’s fine.” He looked back at her, meeting her concern with careful indifference. 

She frowned at him. “It’s obvious you’re not happy.”

Not to Jack, it wasn’t. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said bluntly. “It’s none of your business.”

“You look like death warmed over,” she almost cut him off, her voice rising. He was surprised by her intensity. She took a breath, and then said again in a calm tone, “I am worried about you.”

Her pointed concern was unwelcome, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Let’s go back to Torchwood.”

“No.” She tucked the keys into her pocket deliberately. 

“What, you’re going to keep me hostage in the countryside until I discuss my boyfriend troubles with you?” he snapped angrily, turning to glare at her. 

“ _Is_ he your boyfriend?” Gwen asked gently. 

Ianto grit his teeth and stared ahead out the windshield, sliding the damp palms of his hands over his thighs until he could bring his rising temper under control. “You know he’s not.”

“Look,” Gwen said with a sigh. “Believe it or not, I don’t want to get involved. What you two do is up to you. But Jack is…” she trailed off, and Ianto could see her discomfort grow as she struggled to choose her words. She dropped her gaze to her fingers fidgeting in her lap. “He plays games with people, Ianto. Gets in your head. I don’t think he means to, I really don’t, but he does.” She glanced at him again. “And you shouldn’t let yourself forget that. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

He leaned his head back against the headrest, thumping it in frustration. This was excruciating. “Gwen, I know.” He didn’t want to hear this – didn’t need to. He’d known it from the moment he started this thing with Jack, and it still hadn’t made any difference. 

Gwen took his hand and he looked at her in surprise, but he didn’t pull away. “Sweetheart, he does care about you, in his own way. But you know what he’s like. You can’t expect too much.”

“I’m not expecting anything,” he mumbled. He squeezed Gwen’s hand, unexpectedly grateful for her concern.

“I know you’re not,” Gwen said, and the corners of her mouth turned down unhappily. “But you have your own needs as well. Don’t ignore them. You can’t force a square peg into a round hole.”

He didn’t know what to say. His needs were simple – he needed Jack, regardless of the form it took. The rest of it was Ianto’s problem, and one he would deal with on his own. Jack had always been clear where they stood, and he wasn’t about to lose what he had because he thought he needed more than Jack could give him. His feelings would sort themselves out, if he were patient. 

If there was one thing Ianto could do, it was be patient. He could outwait time, if need be. So, with effort he pasted on the well-worn pleasant smile and squeezed Gwen’s hand again. “Thank you for your concern. I’ll be okay.”

To his eternal relief, Gwen picked up on the fact that he had firmly closed the door on the topic. With resignation she released his hand, patting him on the knee as she retreated. “Alright. But remember, you have friends if you need them.”

She started the engine on the SUV, and they drove back to Torchwood in silence. 

 

***

 

Negotiations had taken place via a series of texts and phone calls, since work had kept all parties tied up, and eventually a Saturday night rolled around when the three of them would be free. And so it was that Ianto found himself in front of the bathroom mirror in his flat staring at his half-shaven reflection.

The idea of two people he found attractive, in the same bed doing things to him – and each other – that made his brain want to melt out his ears, it should have made him feel something. Anticipation, titillation, something. Instead, confusion seemed to be the order of the day. 

He couldn’t conceive of how things had gotten to this place. His delicate balancing act had toppled, but rather than falling apart, it had morphed into monster with a life of its own. First Anna had been a way to get back at Jack, and then she became an escape, then finally a way to grasp at the gossamer threads of Jack’s attention. He’d thought it had been working. However, instead of the possessiveness he craved, Jack was all but waving open arms, crying, ‘the more the merrier!’

They’d agreed on Anna’s place in the end, at Jack’s suggestion. Offers of a big bed aside, he pointed out that it was Anna’s home territory, somewhere she’d feel safe and in control, and it was also somewhere Ianto had been and was comfortable. As for Jack – well, he said he was comfortable anywhere, so long as everyone had a good time.

The thought spurred him to move, and he lifted his razor to finish shaving. This was supposed to be a good time, and something Jack thought Ianto wanted. It was something Jack clearly wanted, and thought would be fun – had gone out of his way to make happen, in fact, as ‘something nice’ for Ianto. And since it was supposed to be entirely casual on all fronts, so no reason not to set out for adventure and fun. Right?

So he would have a good time. 

He flinched as the razor nicked the skin under his jaw. He dabbed at it with his finger, but it was deep enough that it bled plentifully. He grabbed a tissue and held it there, trying to stem the flow. He closed his eyes, working to blank his thoughts. 

It would be fine.

 

***

 

Ianto stood outside Anna’s flat again, clutching a bottle of wine once more – no flowers this time, but instead with Jack’s arm around him, hand warm on his hip. Jack’s bulk was reassuring and supportive by his side, and he leaned into him a little. Sensing the movement, Jack pulled him tighter and placed a quick kiss on his temple just as Anna opened the door.

Her eyes darted between them, and she smiled – shy, but friendly. “Well aren’t you two sweet.” Ianto blushed, embarrassed, but Jack merely smiled in return, squeezing Ianto closer. Anna moved aside, door held open. “Come on in.”

He felt the same reluctance walking down the hallway as he had felt the first time he’d come here - barely in the door and already thinking he should go. But Jack’s hand was a constant presence at the small of his back, and Anna was chattering in a friendly tone about inconsequential things, and there was a measure of familiarity and comfort in both these things.

She led them to the living room, and they stood making small talk for a while, appreciating the view of the bay from the large windows. The room was softly lit, warm and welcoming, and he started to relax into the evening. This was not that weird. He knew Jack, and Anna wasn’t exactly a stranger. With effort, he managed to dispel the last of his tension. Like slipping on a coat, he took on the role of host as the one person who knew them both. 

“Anna, why don’t you have a seat and relax? I know where things are – I’ll grab some glasses.” He held the bottle of wine aloft to indicate his meaning. 

Anna glanced at Jack, a hint of nervousness cracking her friendly demeanour, and she nodded. “Sounds lovely.”

Ianto smiled reassuringly. “He’s promised to be on his best behaviour, don’t worry.” He looked at Jack, who was doing his best to hide his gentle amusement, and eyed him sternly. “Didn’t you, Jack?” 

“Nothing but,” Jack promised with exaggerated sincerity, sparing a wink for Anna. 

She tried to hide her smile, but failed miserably as Jack’s instant charm won over yet another convert. “He always like this?” she asked Ianto.

Ianto sighed, sounding put-upon. “Yes. It’s why we don’t let him out very often.” He gave Jack a last look. “Behave,” he admonished, and turned to leave for the kitchen, but paused. “Sir.” 

He tossed the last over his shoulder and then continued on, but he caught the flame of interest that lit – the rigid formality of the honorific never failed to push Jack’s buttons, and Ianto often suspected that Jack must have had a cracking good time in whatever military service he’d been in. 

Once in the kitchen he set about uncorking the wine and pouring out three glasses and trying not to obsess what might be happening in the other room. To keep himself calm, he clung to the comforting familiarity of flirting with Jack, the remembered weight of Jack’ hand on his back, and the easy, low-consequence enjoyment he took in Anna’s company. All were pleasant, good things. Tonight was supposed to be fun, and it would be, if he could keep his head and not let nerves and foolishness get the better of him. He scooped up the three glasses and made his way back to the living room. 

He found them on the couch chatting, angled towards each other, but far enough apart that it was clear it was just casual conversation. Ianto tried to ignore the relief – not that he’d expected to come back and find them snogging and writhing about on the floor, but he was glad all the same. Anna had her arm on the back of the couch propping up her head, grinning at one of Jack’s amusing anecdotes, no doubt. In the space of a few minutes, Jack had managed to put her at ease, and the hint of nervous tension had dropped away in favour of her normal relaxed friendliness. 

Ianto set the wine glasses on the table, and handed one to each of them. He picked his own glass and considered his seating options, but before he could move to the armchair opposite the couch, Jack grabbed his hand. 

“Too far away,” he said in explanation, tugging Ianto’s hand.

Jack maneuvered Ianto to sit between them. He found himself leaning back into Jack, cradled comfortably by his angled body and the arm lying on the back of the couch, his knees brushing Anna’s legs, which she had tucked up under her. 

As he took a sip of his wine, he felt Jack’s lips brush his ear. “I can see why you like her.” His low, husky voice was an instant incendiary to his arousal, and his eyes fluttered closed when Jack laid a soft kiss below his ear before retreating.

When he was finally able to collect himself enough to swallow and lower his glass, he saw that Anna was watching them with rapt attention, her cheeks warm. Her gaze shifted, and he could see the moment when she met Jack’s eyes – he could picture the look on Jack’s face, the smouldering invitation, the hungry desire – and Anna’s mouth parted slightly, her breathing visibly hitching. Ianto knew that this must be what he looked like when faced with Jack. No wonder he could never say no.

Ianto struggled to keep his racing pulse under control. He took a deeper drink of his wine and then felt lightheaded, so leaned forward to put his wine glass back on the table. Jack followed his lead and did the same, then curled an arm about Ianto’s waist and pulled him back into his embrace. It felt safe, wrapped up in Jack like this, and he squirmed as deep into the curve of Jack’s body as he could. 

Jack kept up his conversation with Anna – light observations about life in Cardiff, how long she’d lived in her flat, where she’d grown up, Jack’s usual bollocks story about moving to the UK from America – all the while tracing distracting patterns on Ianto’s belly. Ianto contributed noises of interest and acknowledgement now and again, but the conversation was mostly a droning hum, dampened by the heat of two bodies on either side of him and the teasing, hypnotic movement of Jack’s fingers, which now and again would dip between the seam of his shirt and stroke the skin beneath. Anna finished her wine and set her glass down, and Ianto noticed that somewhere along the line, Jack and Anna had laced their fingers together along the back of the couch.

Through their conversation Anna had edged closer, and now one folded leg pressed against Ianto’s thigh while the other dangled off the couch, falling between his legs and meeting Jack’s on the other side of him. Her free hand had fallen on Ianto’s thigh, and she gently stroked the fabric; tiny, shifting movements that sent disproportionately large waves of arousal through him while Jack’s hand continued to move across his belly and chest. His head was buzzing, and his thin veneer of reserve was failing him as they flirted across him, using his body as a conduit for their own desires. They had to know how impossibly, achingly hard he was, must be able to feel the twitch and shift of his hips that he couldn’t quite suppress each time their hands moved on him.

By the time he realized that Jack had undone a button and slipped his hand fully into his shirt, Anna was boldly stroking the inside of his thigh and conversation had lulled, replaced by the sound of their breathing. His head had fallen back onto Jack’s shoulder without thought, his heart thundering as he struggled to control himself.

“Ianto?”

Jack murmured his name, and it was followed by a kiss to his neck. Utterly failing to maintain any sense of dignity, Ianto let out a soft moan, leaning his head back to allow Jack greater access to the sensitive area. Jack licked the skin, then a small nibble and a kiss. Jack chuckled as Ianto grasped Jack’s leg tightly and rocked his hips up towards the fingers edging teasingly up his leg in helpless, instinctual response.

“I think Anna wants to kiss you.” 

Ianto raised his head from Jack’s shoulder, coming face to face with Anna. Her lips were plump and red, breath just as short as his, and her eyes were dark and pleading. He’d seen her in the throes of passion many times, but he’d never seen her look at him like this. 

“May I?” She asked softly, invitingly. “Would that be alright, Ianto?”

His brain had ceased to make rational decisions, overloaded with the sensation of Jack’s fingers teasing his nipple, Anna’s breasts pressed against his arm, Jack’s heart thundering fit to match his own against his back. The heat and warmth surrounding him was intoxicating, and the air was thick with scents that triggered automatic impulses and heated sense memories, all of it urging him on. In answer, he reached up to weave his fingers into her hair and pulled her close, kissing her. She melted against him with a groan, and he heard Jack’s breath catch in his ear. 

“You are beautiful,” Jack whispered, his breath licking Ianto’s ear. “So beautiful.”

Ianto whimpered into Anna’s mouth, clutching at her with desperation, pulling her closer; whether the words were meant for him alone or both of them, they affected him all the same. Jack continued to feather kisses along his neck, brushing long, soft strokes up and down his arms that were affectionate and teasing. It only served to drive him higher, and he poured all of his feelings for Jack into his kiss with Anna. 

With a gasp, he and Anna parted. Her hair was mussed, the faint gloss on her lips smeared, and she was panting for breath, eyes boring into him with desperate intensity. Ianto stared at her wildly, shocked by the passion of their kiss. Jack took advantage of the space between them to wrap his arms around Ianto’s chest and squeeze him in a tight hug, kissing his temple.

There was a sweetness to Jack’s action that caught him off-guard, and a painful clench in his chest made him stiffen. Even so, he couldn’t keep from nuzzling into the kiss, a smile softening his mouth as his happiness filtered through the hormonal maelstrom, giving it a meaning it had been lacking. He reached up to stroke Jack’s cheek, giddy at the reminder of his presence, letting himself sink into the fuzzy, pleasant sensation. His Jack, if only for this moment when he closed his eyes and pretended.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw that Anna was watching him carefully, a softer expression on her face now. Understanding. Sympathy. She had seen his slip. He blinked, feeling a note of panic slip into the pleasant haze at being revealed like this, and he was grateful that he was facing away from Jack.

Anna leaned close to his other ear. “Are you sure, Ianto?” she asked quietly. “Is this what you want?” Her words mixed with the hot, quick sound of Jack’s breath in his other ear, and he closed his eyes.

“Yes,” he answered roughly, pushing away his fear. “Absolutely.”

Before she could say anything else, he pulled her close for another kiss, and slid his hand back along Jack’s thigh. He was quickly rewarded with two different moans, and he blanked his mind to anything other than the here and now.


	10. Chapter 10

Ianto rooted in the refrigerator, looking for something easy to fix. There as some fruit, a little cheese, some bread – good enough. He could cut that up, it would be easy finger food. He kept moving, keeping himself busy with inconsequential tasks. Anna’s kitchen was dark and far too quiet, so he filled it with busy sounds as he moved about, fetching a plate and other kitchen tools. 

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do, or think, or feel. Happiness? Satisfaction? Wasn’t this supposed to be some kind of idealistic wet dream, a fantasy come true? Instead he felt the increasing, suffocating feeling of panic and guilt that had become a perpetual companion. He was going to have to switch to Catholicism at this rate.

He ruthlessly stuffed down his thoughts, but they started to bubble forth anyway, ratcheting up his anxiety with each passing minute. The sex itself had been fine, and he’d lost himself in the moment easily enough. But lying there afterward in their tangled embrace, seeing their hands entwined across his belly… He’d wanted to forbid them from touching, to grab his clothes, to run off into the night. He was an afterthought, an unnecessary edition in the equation - worse yet, a toy to be made use of. 

The vivid memory flashed before him: lying on his side with Jack thrusting into him, the motion rocking him into Anna, their arms clutching each other and legs tangled over him while Ianto buried his head in Anna’s shoulder and nearly wept from the overwhelming sensation of it all – Jack’s rough breathing that turned to desperate pants, filling his head until he’d come with such force that it sent both of them over as well. His name, whispered in two different voices, while he silently mouthed Jack’s name against Anna’s skin, biting his lips to keep silent.

It had gone well, if they way they’d wrapped around him and nodded off in sated pleasure was any indication. When his endorphins had waned and the haze of the afterglow had faded, he’d wanted to run. He settled instead for slipping off for a shower while they’d dozed, and then keeping himself busy fixing food for them. Jack was always hungry after a good bout of athletic sex, so it would be a considerate gesture. 

He placed the cut fruit on a plate and then pulled out the bread. He held the bread knife up to slice it, but his hand was shaking. He closed his eyes and took a breath, trying to summon calm. When he looked down and saw that his hand was still trembling, he put the knife down and braced his hands on the counter, dropping his head and breathing deeply. Shit. He was fine, he was fine, he was–

“Ianto?” 

Jack. Ianto looked up in surprise, feeling cornered. He straightened immediately, nearly snapping to attention stiffly. “Yes, Jack. Hello.”

Jack was hovering in the doorway dressed in only his trousers, shirtless and braces hanging at his sides. It was surprisingly modest for him, a man who normally strutted around naked at any given opportunity. Ianto was doing his best to keep himself calm, but he couldn’t stop his fists from clenching tightly, and he was starting to get faint from keeping his breath slow and steady while his heart pounded and demanded more oxygen than he was providing. 

“I was – I was fixing a snack,” Ianto said lamely, gesturing to the food on the counter.

Jack looked it over, then back to Ianto. He seemed confused. “Why?”

“I…” Ianto didn’t have an answer for that, exactly. He knew what Jack was asking, but he ignored it. He didn’t really have a good answer for why he was here in the kitchen rattling to pieces rather than basking in the hedonism of their evening. He had no reason to be upset. He glanced down and saw plate covered in fruit – he scooped it up and thrust it out towards Jack. “Apple? There were bananas, but they’ve gone a bit mushy.” God, if that wasn’t a pathetic attempt at deflection.

He followed Jack’s eyes and saw that the plate in his hands was shaking slightly. He dropped it on the counter noisily, frustrated at his body’s betrayal, running his hands through his hair. Jack crossed the room to reach out to him, but Ianto backed away, quickly bumping into the counter. “I said I was fine.” He drew a hand across his eyes and found them unexpectedly damp. “Why don’t you go back to bed?”

“You’re clearly not fine. I’d rather stay here.” Jack dropped his extended hand reluctantly, maintaining the distance Ianto had set between them. “I woke up and you were gone, and I–” 

“I think you were both fine without me,” Ianto spat angrily, his agitation spurring him to lash out at Jack. He spun back to the food on the counter, and with shaking hands he tried to aimlessly sort it into some semblance of order, but it was just motion without thought. He wanted to erase the image and feel of Jack’s hand reaching across him to grip Anna’s thigh, to feel them touching and talking across and around him. If he let any further words out, it would all come out in a raging flood, and he wouldn’t subject Jack to his insecurities. This was supposed to be fun and light. There weren’t supposed to be awkward conversations and tears in kitchens.

“Ianto, you’re not okay. I can see that, but I need to know why.” The statement was firm, a clear command to tell Jack what was wrong. It was like everything with Jack – it brooked no disagreement. 

Jack ran a hand up his arm and tried to pull him around, but he resisted. Ianto wanted nothing more than to bury his head in Jack’s shoulder and cling to him like a wet rag, desperate and needy and hurt. This was the last thing Jack could possibly want – his secretary sobbing on his shoulder as the capper to a fun fling with two people, when right about now they should probably be considering round two. 

Before the dam broke and he went to pieces, he batted Jack’s hand away. “Piss off, Jack. Leave me alone, I’m fine.” He sniffed loudly, trying to will away his emotions, and to bottle and shove it away. He’d already let far more slip than he’d intended, but there was no need to let it get worse. 

Jack snatched his hand back, visibly stung. He made a frustrated noise deep in his throat, setting his hands on his hips and turning away. Ianto pushed more cut fruit onto the plate in his hands and shuffled it around, trying to keep his attention occupied, but watching Jack pace in the corner of his eye. 

“You’re not the only person who gets jealous, you know.”

The words sent a rolling wave of numbness through his body. He snapped around to look at Jack. Blinking away from that concerned and hurt look, Ianto stared down at the food spread out on the counter with needlessly intense concentration. “I – I’m not jealous.” It was the weakest protest possible, given the fact that he could barely form the words around the choking, suffocating feeling in his throat. It wasn’t a feeling he was entitled to, and to think that Jack could so easily see it… He had a sudden desire to be properly dressed, to be in his armour and ready to face Jack. Instead his feet were bare, the cold linoleum numbing his soles. 

“Why do you think people get jealous, Ianto?” Jack had stopped pacing now, and he leaned against the counter once more.

The question seemed loaded, but he couldn’t figure out the trap, if there was one. He shook his head, sneaking a glance at Jack. “I don’t know.” 

“Insecurity,” Jack said, contemplating the floor at his feet. “Knowing you have something to lose. Someone to lose.” Jack looked up at him, pinning him with the steadiness of his gaze. “It’s as much a part of the human condition as eating, sleeping, loving and…” Jack trailed off. “And dying,” he finished with a faint twist of a smile. “But if you hang on to people, if you crush them the way that jealousy would have you do, you’ll lose them for sure.”

Ianto licked his lips nervously. There was no hint of Jack’s usual playful demeanour. Just quiet honesty, and a rock-steady stillness and calm that was unnerving in its weight. Ianto thought again of the afternoon in Jack’s office – the tempting directness, the hint of something more in his eyes. He found himself drawn in once again despite himself. “How would you know? I thought you didn’t get jealous.” The question was supposed to be a teasing barb, but Ianto failed to achieve any levity. He instead sounded childish and petulant, and he cringed inwardly at the insecurity apparent in his own words.

Jack smiled at him thinly. “I said I didn’t do jealousy. There’s a difference.”

Ianto frowned. “I never figured you for a semanticist,” he sniffed, turning away. 

“I am still human, Ianto.” Jack’s voice was thick.

Jack, jealous. The idea was strangely and shamefully appealing, and had a seed of hope in it that Ianto wanted to cling to. But he wouldn’t open himself up to the hurt of being let down by Jack, not on such a weak thread of hope. This probably happened to Jack all the time - people fell in love with him at the drop of a hat. Who could avoid it? His attention was like the light of the sun, and he shone it on all in his presence. Ianto was just another infatuated young idiot. He should know better, he really should, but the least he could do was keep his idiocy to himself. For all his sympathy and soft words, Jack would only gently rebuff him if he knew how Ianto really felt. He wouldn’t be able to face him if it ended like that. 

Jack’s shift and small sigh broke through his thoughts. “I think I should go.”

When he looked up, Jack had already turned and was leaving the kitchen, disappearing into the hall towards the bedroom. Ianto staring after him in dismay. He shouldn’t have expected different, given his behaviour. Shit, he’d ruined a perfectly fine night through his juvenile displays of sturm und drang. He tried to think of some way to salvage this, but it seemed beyond repair at this point.

He looked up hen Jack reappeared with his remaining clothes in hand, already pulling on his shirt. “I’ll see you at Torchwood on Monday.”

“You don’t have to leave.” Ianto hugged his arms around him, unable to stop the words. It was obvious that Jack would, regardless. 

“I should let you and Anna have some time together.” Jack sat and pulled on his socks hastily, then standing to tuck in his shirt. “She’s a lovely woman, but you really don’t need to worry, I’m not out to poach your girlfriends. If I was, you’d know. So stop standing around freezing in the kitchen and go back to bed with her.” While he spoke, Jack avoided his gaze, quickly putting his clothes in order.

As Jack’s words sunk in, Ianto’s unhappiness turned into shock and surprise. “Wait, what are you talking about? You think I’m…” That’s why Jack thought Ianto was jealous? Thinking that Jack was out to steal his girl? Ianto was caught between laughter and indignation, skin cold in the chill of the flat, watching Jack dress and feeling things inescapably pull away from him. “She’s not my girlfriend!” he protested inarticulately. “I told you–“

Jack adjusted his braces and shrugged his shoulders to settle them. “Yeah, I know. Either ‘it’s complicated’ or it’s meaningless labels and nuance and all the usual twenty-first century bullshit.” His tone was acidic and sharp, but then he thinned his lips and shook his head as though to clear it. “Sorry, but sometimes–“ He took a deep breath, and when he raised his head again, he was back behind the pleasant, in-control expression that he always seemed to wear. “Anyway, thank you. I had fun. I hope you did too.”

He crossed the room and laid a kiss on Ianto’s cheek. It was chaste and quick, and so unlike Jack that Ianto reached out to grab Jack’s arm and hold him, just to look at him. Everything was moving too quickly for him, and he was still processing through his own muddied emotions, things filtering in past he panic and confusion and sinking in. He stared into Jack’s face, trying to read his mind through those pale blue eyes. “You–you–“

Jack frowned and covered Ianto’s hand, and then twisted it to take it in his own. “Hey, relax. It’s fine. I said it was fine, and I meant it. This doesn’t have to be a big deal, okay?” 

“No. This is – this is not…” He groped for something to say, but nothing would come. 

“You don’t have to worry, honestly.” Jack said softly, stroking Ianto’s cheek. “The way she looks at you–“

“This isn’t about her!” Ianto snapped, pulling back from Jack sharply. “This was never about her!”

Jack jerked his hand back, startled by Ianto’s fierce outburst, but immediately surged forward again, as though sensing the gap in Ianto’s armour, determined to wedge his foot in the door before it closed. “So what’s it about then? Ianto, talk to me.”

Ianto slammed his mouth shut instantly. Jack’s sharp, interrogative look was riveting. He tried to look away, but found he couldn’t. 

Jack still held his hand tightly, and he squeezed his fingers, pulling Ianto closer. “Dammit, Ianto – you keep making me guess, but you’re impossible to read. You never talk, and something is eating at you. It’s been eating at you for weeks, months. You’re there, and then you’re not. I touch you, and you pull away. If it’s not her, then what? Is it me, have I done something to you?” His words were rushed and urgent, and he tilted his head to meet Ianto’s drifting gaze, pulling his attention back. He wouldn’t let Ianto escape, wouldn’t let him wiggle away. “You can tell me.”

 _Of course it’s you, Jack. It’s always about you._

“Ianto. Please look at me.” Jack’s fingers were tight around his hand. That tender tone, those same inviting words, the begging tone that tugged at Ianto’s heart and revealed him, luring him into a false sense of security. He closed his eyes. “Jack…” 

“Is everything okay?” 

They both snapped around at the sound of Anna’s voice. She was tucking her bathrobe around her and knotting the tie, watching them warily. When she caught sight of Ianto’s face, her expression shifted to a worried frown. “Um, what’s going on?”

Ianto drew the back of his hand across his eyes and backed away from Jack hastily, both grateful and upset by the interruption. His head and heart were reeling, and he felt naked and exposed in front of this audience of two. “Nothing. Sorry, I was just fixing some food.”

He could feel Jack’s eyes boring into him, but after a moment Jack reluctantly tore himself away from Ianto and his attention to Anna. “I was heading home. I was just saying goodnight.” 

She looked up at Jack in concern, then back to Ianto. “Alright.” She sounded very uncertain and seemed to be seeking reassurance from him, and Ianto felt shame and guilt once again for dragging her into his life. She didn’t deserve this. He looked away, folding his arms across his chest. His skin was cold to the touch.

Jack crossed to her and took her hand, giving her a gentle smile. He kissed her on the cheek, and she smiled faintly. “I had a lovely time, Anna. Thank you.”

“Me too, Jack.” She gave him a polite hug, but her attention was still on Ianto. 

Unable to meet her gaze, he stared at the floor. “I should go too. I’m going to go get my things,” he mumbled, and skirted past the two of them to the bedroom. 

It was quick work to collect his belongings, but Jack was gone by the time he came back to the living room. Anna was perched on the edge of the chair, chewing on her thumbnail. She dropped her hand and stood when he came into the room, and he ground to a halt, his clothes in hand.

“Do you have to go?” she asked.

He nodded jerkily. “Yeah. I’m – I don’t know.” He hurriedly pulled on his socks and threw on his shirt. “I’m sorry, Anna.” 

He was buttoning his shirt when she came up to him, stilling his shaking hands. He looked up into her face, meeting concerned blue eyes, her face framed by a halo of mussed dark hair. She cupped his face in the way that Jack did, stroking a thumb across his cheekbone in a familiar echo, and the tenderness of the gesture was the final blow to his crumbling composure. 

A sob broke through, followed by another and then a shuddering gasp. He hunched in on himself and covered his face with his hands. Anna pulled him to her and he buried his face in the shoulder of her bathrobe, wrapping his arms around her and holding on tightly. At this point he couldn’t even understand why it hurt so much, only that it did. She shushed softly in his ear, stroking the back of neck.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Ianto gasped, throat sore from tears, face still pressed into the soft cloth of her robe. “I thought I wanted this – I thought…”

“Oh, Ianto. Why did you do this to yourself?” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple. “No one expects you to be someone you’re not.”

“Jack –I don’t know. What he– he wants–“

“Sweetheart.” Anna interrupted him, pulling him into a tighter embrace. “I think Jack just wants you.” 

Eventually he cried himself out until he was a numb and empty, breathing soft and even while Anna continued to stroke his neck. With some sheepishness he pulled away from her, apologizing feebly for the dampness on her collar. She waved it off with a tired smile and a shrug. She brought him a glass of water while he fetched his shoes and coat. With a gentle kiss they said goodnight, and he left her flat, trudging home alone in the damp night air.


	11. Chapter 11

Ianto stared at the computer screen, long blinks turning into longer ones, and the screen wavered in front of his eyes for a moment. It was starting to burn holes in his retinas, but he persevered. Dumping all his attention into this task was the only thing holding him together at this point, and he hung onto it doggedly. At the moment he probably spent more time sleeping with his head on his desk in short, unintentional snatches than he spent sleeping in a bed at night, but he was at least kept his brain occupied.

Throwing everything into work was a tried and true solution to personal problems, but it was much less effective when your boss was part of the problem. He’d found a way around that, though; he’d picked the most isolated yet important task he could find and buried himself in it with alacrity.

When he’d asked Jack for the assignment the first morning back at Torchwood, he’d done so in the middle of the Hub, hoping that their audience would keep Jack from inquiring too deeply as to why. Jack had stared at him blankly, then nodded without a word. Some days later they had yet to speak, and Ianto could only be grateful for being spared. He had no desire to revisit the events of that night, or their aborted conversation. Best forgotten. He could only hope Jack had concluded the same.

The information retrieval and classification system for the Torchwood Archive was a dismally boring task, but it was vital if anyone other than Ianto were to ever have a hope of navigating the interminable quagmire if their accumulated alien artifacts. It was also a task that had been a work in progress in all Ianto’s years at Torchwood. While Jack was likely not fooled by his sudden interest in it, he had carefully kept his distance for the past few days and left Ianto to it. He wasn’t certain how long his luck would hold up on that front.

The screen wavered again and he sighed, sitting back to rub his eyes. When he put his hands down, he saw again the unanswered text blinking at him accusingly on his mobile. He picked up the mobile and shoved it in his pocket. Back to work. 

Before he could begin, Gwen set another mug of atrocious coffee in front of him, startling him. Still he gave her a grateful look and scooped it up, swallowing it down with barely a grimace. 

“You doing alright, love?” 

He groaned inwardly – more of Gwen’s mothering. Not what he needed right now. “Yes, I’m fine, thanks.”

She sat on the edge of his desk. “You should go lie down. Have a rest.” 

“Not necessary, but thank you.”

Gwen looked like she might get into it, but then with a shake of her head, she stood. She ruffled his hair, which he straightened again automatically. “Fine, have it your way.” With a last pat of his shoulder, she left, trotting up the stairs to Jack’s office. 

Ianto continued the task with studious concentration, but despite his best efforts, his eyes started to close. Just a moment to rest his eyes from the strain…

“Oi, Tea Boy.” 

His head snapped up, startled awake from his doze. Owen was eyeing him as he walked past on his way to the medical bay, carrying something that looked like a miniature version of the Jaws of Life. 

“Yes, Owen?”

“You look like shit.” 

Ianto closed his eyes again with a sigh, collecting his frayed nerves. “Thank you, Owen. Kind of you to say.”

Owen turned to continue, but then paused in his step, half turning back with awkward hesitation. “You – um. You alright?”

Ianto grit his teeth and stared resolutely at his computer screen. “Fine, thanks.”

Owen harrumphed quietly to himself, and Ianto caught a snippet that included “-why I even bother,” and then Owen was gone. Ianto sat back in his seat, futilely trying to rub the sleep from his eyes.

The sound of muffled, angry voices rang out, and he looked up at Jack’s office. Gwen was waving a hand, gesticulating and shouting at Jack. Ianto snorted. Nothing new, then. He watched Jack snap at her in frustration, pacing his office. Ianto watched him as he ran his fingers through his hair, turning to speak to Gwen again – quiet, this time. He tucked his hands under his armpits, and with his head hanging low said something else. There was pain evident in his hunched shoulders.

Gwen nodded, and turned to leave. Ianto hurriedly averted his eyes, not wishing to be caught spying – though he wasn’t sure why he bothered. Privacy in this place was a joke, and they all knew each other’s business. He gave it ten minutes at most before they all knew exactly what that argument was about. He took another sip of coffee, trying to gather the energy to get back to work. 

He was finally managing to sink into his task with some manner of success without falling asleep face-down on the keyboard when Jack suddenly appeared in his peripheral vision next to his face. He jumped in surprise and his stomach flipped, bringing on a wave of anxious nausea at Jack’s presence, and he took a deep breath to settle his stomach. 

When he looked up and saw the expression on Jack’s face, he had the sinking realization that his reprieve was over.

“Yes, Jack?” he asked with excruciating politeness.

“How’s it going, Ianto? Everything alright?”

Good grief. He really, really needed to stop hearing that. He tried to banish his fatigue as he turned to Jack. “Of course, sir. I’m fine.”

Jack flopped into the chair next to him and stared at Ianto unwaveringly, a hand in front of his mouth. His knee began to bounce, but it stopped when he caught Ianto glancing at the obvious nervous tic. The lines around Jack’s eyes had deepened, and his brow was creased with worry, and it seemed to be entirely focused on Ianto. “So,” Jack said.

He’d known this was coming, and yet he’d hoped… “So.”

Jack shifted in his seat, finally leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, coming close enough that he could speak quietly. “This is – god, I can’t believe I’m going to say this.” His voice was low, and after a moment of frowning down at his shoes, he looked up. “You do know that sleeping with me isn’t a job requirement, right?”

Ianto stared at him. “What? Yes, of course I know that.” 

“Okay.” Jack nodded firmly, though Ianto could sense his relief. Jack reached out to take Ianto’s hand, turning it upside down and stroking his palm slowly. Ianto curled his fingers around Jack’s hand in response, and Jack looked up into his eyes, unexpectedly vulnerable. “If I pushed you into something, If I–“

“No – no, Jack. Stop it.” He pulled his hand away. “No, you didn’t.”

Jack closed his now empty hand, brows drawing together. “And you know that you can talk to me. You know, if you need to. Want to, I mean.”

“Yes, of course, sir.” Ianto said, still hiding behind the polite tone. He had trained himself rather effectively out of dipping into the bubbling wellspring of conflicted emotion that centred on Jack, and he found he was able to hear and respond to Jack’s words without actually processing or acknowledging their meaning. It made it easier to hide behind the bulletproof persona he’d constructed when he’d arrived at Torchwood. Until Jack had knocked him off-kilter, it was the way they’d always interacted, and it had always been enough.

It wasn’t anymore, clearly. Jack seemed to sense his distance and drew a sharp breath, sitting back in his chair. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, and he shut it again, huffing in frustration. He turned his head to the side, eyes darkening in irritation, and Ianto followed his gaze to see Gwen watching them from the gangway by Jack’s office, her arms crossed. He felt a wave of irritation. If this was a result of Gwen and her bloody meddling again…

He swung back to the desk, pulling his hand away and cutting the conversation short, and tried to ignore the flash of hurt on Jack’s face. “I’m in the middle of something. If there’s nothing else–“

“You haven’t seen Anna this week.” 

Ianto gave him a cautious look over his shoulder, heart speeding up nervously. Jack had folded his arms, staring at Ianto impassively. His hand strayed and brushed the pocket that held his mobile with Anna’s unseen text. “No, I haven’t,” he said slowly. 

“Talked to her?”

“No.”

Jack leapt from the chair with tense energy, hands falling into his pockets to jingle the coins there. “Word of friendly advice – call her. You can’t just pop in for a threesome like it’s no big thing.” The change rattled as Jack fidgeted. “Not in this century, at least.”

“Thank you for the informative etiquette lesson. Feel free to call her yourself if it’s that important.”

“It’s not me she’ll want to hear from,” Jack said with a shrug.

Ianto turned away from Jack, irritated by Jack’s interference. “Yes, right. Thank you. I’ll think about it.” He began to work, but he could tell that Jack was still standing behind him, arms folded. He sighed, cursing silently to himself. “Yes, Jack?”

“It’s Wednesday.”

“Yes, it is.”

“You usually buy coffee on Wednesdays.”

“Yes, I do.”

“So?”

“So, we still have coffee. I don’t need to go.” He looked at the computer screen, continuing with his indexing task, ignoring Jack. 

He heard Jack finally sigh and turn, and the sound of his receding footsteps was a relief. Ianto shook his head to clear it, trying to dismiss any thoughts but for the detailed task in front of him, but he heard a muffled banging of cupboards from the kitchen, followed by a distinctive clang and thump. He froze, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Jack wouldn’t.

He heard Jack’s approaching footsteps, and again he stopped behind Ianto. “We’re out of coffee.”

He would. Ianto resisted the urge to bang his head against the desk. “Yes, Jack. Thank you. I will pick some up this afternoon.”

“Great.” Jack’s footsteps receded again, banging heavily up the stairs.

Ianto dropped his head into his hands, groaning at the mess his life had become. 

Just then, Tosh walked by his desk as she returned from a break, munching on a pastry. She paused as she passed, then stopped. “Um – Ianto? Are you al–“

“I am _fine!_ ” he roared, slamming his hands on the desk in frustration as he glared up.

Tosh nearly choked on her pastry as she jumped and backed away, turning to scurry back to her desk. Owen looked up curiously from his work, startled by his outburst, while Gwen leaned over the railing above.

Ianto turned pink under the weight of their stares. “Sorry. Sorry Tosh. Sorry.” His apology devolved into a mutter and he slumped into his chair, wishing to disappear. 

 

***

 

As it turned out, the unopened text message from Anna was indeed a brief invitation to drop in if he was free at the usual time. When he dropped into the coffee shop, he was surprised to see one of Anna’s weekend employees behind the counter. He hesitated and considered leaving, but after a moment he spotted Anna towards the back of the shop, puttering around the coffee roaster. She had just put a sack of green beans in to begin the roasting cycle, and she was tidying up the few spilled beans with a broom and pan. She looked up when he approached. 

“Hey, Anna.” He gave her a nod. He held back, certain that dropping in had not been a good idea. His face grew warms as a wave of embarrassment passed over him – he remembered losing it while clinging to her, and her patient, calming murmurs. He wished again that he hadn’t come. It was hard to meet her eye.

“Hi, Ianto.” She straightened and pushed the loose strands of her hair that had escaped her ponytail out of her face. She offered him a brief smile. “I was hoping you might drop in today. Wait a moment, okay?”

He nodded and took a seat at a table, while she disappeared off to the counter. In a minute she was back wearing her jacket, with two paper cups of coffee. She handed him one. “Can we walk?”

He took the proffered cup and stood, and with a brief goodbye to the girl behind they left the shop. They walked over the few blocks to the castle grounds, strolling quietly until they reached the path along the riverside. Ianto drank his coffee, sneaking glances at Anna once in a while. She seemed to be gathering her thoughts, and she seemed to reflect the same uncertainty that he felt.

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about the other night. It wasn’t anything – it wasn’t you, or…” He petered off, unsure what he could offer by way of explanation.

She blinked over at him, startled from her thoughts. “Hm? Oh, yes. Well, I knew that.” She sighed, and shrugged, and said nothing more. They continued to walk in silence.

They disposed of their cups, and she led him over to a park bench on the side of the path. They sat on it, watching the river water move past, and she held his hand in her lap and toyed with his fingertips. “I had a good time,” she finally said, looking at Ianto. “You and Jack are… well. Something else.” 

“Is that good, or bad?” he asked, smiling to make it a joke. When the look on her face turned troubled, he frowned. He felt the need to explain himself again, and stumbled through an apology. “I know I didn’t handle it very well. I am sorry that I dumped it all on you. First time, um, doing – that. More than one person.”

“I guessed that. You should have told me.” He could see her mouth tighten in annoyance or anger. “You don’t seem big on letting me make informed choices, Ianto.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Did you tell Jack?”

He looked away from her. “No. I assumed he knew. I don’t know.”

She didn’t say anything, but eventually she shrugged, idly stroking her fingers along his hand. She tried to smile, but it was a faint spark of her usual verve. “It’s not for everyone, I know, but seemed like you were okay with it, even if it ended the way it did.”

Ianto nodded. “Yeah. It was good.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. “And you? Was it okay?”

“Oh, I had a great time. Like, won’t forget it till the day I die, great.” She laughed faintly.

Ianto shook off the tight feeling in his chest, watching a jogger go past them on the path. “Jack has that effect on people.”

“Not just Jack.” He looked at her, but she was absorbed in her inspection of the river. He didn’t know what to say, so waited. After a time she looked back at him. “You wouldn’t leave him, would you?”

“I…” The thought had never occurred. Jack was as much a part of him as breathing, now. Was leaving him even possible? It would mean walking away from his whole life, giving up everything that made him who he was. Even without all that, to leave Jack… “No,” he confessed. “I wouldn’t.”

Anna nodded slowly, fingers stilling. “Yeah. I figured.” She sighed. “I think we should probably stop seeing each other.”

He’d known this is what they were coming around to, but he was still surprised by the depth of his disappointment at hearing the actual words. “Alright, if that’s what you want,” he said reluctantly.

She smiled, but once again there was no light behind it. “It’s not, but I think it’s for the best. I though – well, I don’t know what I was thinking, really. Probably wasn’t thinking at all, which was the problem. The two of you – the thing between you, the way you are with each other –” 

“Anna, stop it.” he said, cutting off the uncomfortable train of thought. He dropped his eyes glumly to his lap. “Me and Jack, you know it’s not like that.”

“You say that, and yet…” She trailed off. “You’ve obviously got to sort it out, and I can’t be – well, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to get mixed up in it.” She gave him an embarrassed look. “Sorry. No offence.”

He had trouble meeting her gaze and he fidgeted in his seat, but he tried to set it aside. Ianto cleared his throat, nodding as graciously as he could. “None taken. I appreciate your honesty.”

Anna laughed quietly. “It’s not a business negotiation, Ianto.” She leaned toward him and kissed him on the cheek. “I do like you. This has been really nice. If things had been different–” To his surprise, she blinked rapidly as though she were holding back tears.

“Anna?” he said softly, and squeezed her hand. “Are you alright?” 

She drew a swift breath and nodded firmly. “Yeah. Just – well. I guess I let myself get a bit carried away.” She gave him a rueful smile. “Not easy keeping things casual, is it?”

She avoided his eye, and hesitantly he nodded his agreement. They sat quietly for a time, holding hands and listening to the trickle of the river and the hum of the city beyond the park. When they started to grow chilly in the damp air, it was time to go. They stood, and Anna stepped forward and hugged him tightly. 

“Take care of yourself, Ianto. It was nice knowing you.” She kissed him softly on the lips and then released him. “I’m going to go this way – going to head home. If you wouldn’t mind going that way.” She nodded towards the path back the way they’d come. 

She managed to finish the sentence, but quickly turned from him as a tear spilled down her cheek despite her attempts to hold it back. She started walking hurriedly away, head down and hands buried deep in her coat pockets. He watched her walk for a few moments, but politely turned and left in an effort to give her the privacy she wanted. He walked briskly back to the SUV, wishing he had half Anna’s sense.

His mobile buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out.

_Rift alert. Need you. – JH_

Ianto gripped the mobile tightly. Fucking Jack, fucking Torchwood. Jack had chased him out here to talk to Anna in the first place. The timing was suspicious – he wouldn’t put it past Jack to have him under surveillance and call him back when he figured he was done. Still, the terse, no-nonsense message probably meant trouble. He started to run for the SUV.


	12. Chapter 12

_Wake up, Jack._

Jack was lying on his back, spread-eagle, sightless eyes open and dull. The seeping puddle of his blood was still growing, black against the cobblestones. This was all part of the plan to get Jack behind the enemy line, and the five alien soldiers had indeed advanced past Jack’s body without a second thought once they’d shot him, but Ianto couldn’t stop staring at him, praying and praying.

The stopwatch was cutting into the palm of his hand, gripped tightly as the weapon in his other. He and the rest of the team were laying down a barrage of fire to keep the soldiers distracted while Jack recovered. The soldiers were disoriented, but still deadly – they appeared to have arrived through the rift, fresh from some faraway war zone, and doubts of their own sanity had sent them firing at anything that moved. It had been a two-day battle in the streets to get this far with them – this was the last stand, and it was going to end one way or another. They just had to hold out until Jack revived, and could take them out from behind. He ducked around the paltry cover of the post box he’d chosen as cover and squeezed off a few rounds, then back to safety as a chunk of brick exploded on the building behind him.

He looked back at the stopwatch, passively ticking along, then craned his neck to see Jack’s body. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Jack die, and Jack had warned him that it wasn’t a process you could set a clock to, but shouldn’t it be faster than this? Head-shot, thirty-eight seconds. Gunshot wound to the back, one minute twenty-two seconds. Hit by a car, one minute fifty-seven seconds.

Disembowelment by energy weapon – he looked at the ticking hands – two minutes twelve seconds and counting. He took another two quick shots, then back behind his cover. The soldiers were still closing, from the looks of things. This wasn’t good. 

He could just see Jack’s body from his position if he craned his neck, and he looked again, despite the sickening, instinctive grief and horror the sight induced. Jack’s slack, grey face was tilted towards him, and as much as he knew he would soon be up and breathing again, there was no arguing with the animal hindbrain that insisted Jack was gone. He took a deep and steadying breath, trying to keep down his distress with rational, logical reminders that this had all happened before, and always been fine. He stared at the watch again.

_Come on, Jack. Wake up._

Owen was two meters to his left, taking his shots from behind the safety of the corner of a sturdy building, and Gwen and Tosh were across the street pinned down behind a car, which was taking a beating. Wherever these soldiers had come from, their weaponry was extremely deadly and effective. Another round of shots, then the click of an empty chamber. He set the stopwatch on the ground at his feet and swiftly changed the clip on his gun.

Two minutes fifty-eight seconds. Ianto wiped at the sweat trickling down into his eyes, trying to stop himself from looking at Jack’s body. What if this was the time Jack didn’t come back? Was this the end of Jack’s lucky streak? Had he used up his free passes, had death finally caught up with him?

_Wake up, Jack, please please please–_

At three minutes and two seconds, Jack revived with a jolt and a noisy gasp that Ianto echoed with his own breath of desperate relief. That was their cue. With abrupt clarity of mind, Ianto broke from his cover and began laying down continuous fire along with the others. It was enough to keep the soldiers occupied for the crucial split second where Jack recovered his weapon. Jack took down two almost instantaneously, and Ianto and Gwen each managed to get one in their ensuing panic at the unexpected fire from behind. Jack got the fifth after another firefight, and then the street was silent but for the freakishly normal background hum of city life.

Ianto dropped his gun hand to his side, breathing hard and shaking from the flood of adrenaline. He turned to find Jack, and spotted him at the other end of the block holstering his gun. He was a mess, but he was alive and breathing, the picture of grim determination. Jack caught his eye with a look that asked if he was okay. Ianto nodded. Okay. Alive, and okay.

“Owen, get over here now!” Gwen’s cry was shrill and panicked in the quiet street.

While Owen sprinted to Gwen’s location, Ianto ran for the SUV and the medical kit. He was back with it in less than a minute, and already Owen was up to his elbows in blood – Toshiko’s blood, flowing from a gaping wound in her side. 

“Press and hold this – I need something, more cloth – Ianto, your jacket.”

Owen’s curt orders made him jump, and he ripped off his jacket and pressed it to the wound as Owen indicated. Tosh moaned weakly, but was otherwise quiet, which was disturbing and frightening. She was pale and waxy and still losing blood.

“Fuck,” Owen cursed loudly. “This is too much for me to handle with this - we’re closer to the hospital than the base. I’ll have to get her there.” Owen’s mouth was set tightly.

The screech of tyres echoed off the brick buildings as the SUV slid to a screaming halt metres from them, and Jack swarmed out of the vehicle.

“Let’s get her in,” he barked.

The following tense minutes were spent pressing his jacket to Tosh in the back of the rocking SUV, holding it with all his weight against the wound while Owen worked to stabilize her. They managed to call ahead and co-opt a trauma team, as Owen had needed the support to operate on her, and within minutes they were at the local hospital.

Ianto watched as the crowd of EMTs hustled Toshiko into the hospital on the stretcher, Owen at the head barking instructions like a drill sergeant as they flew into the emergency wing. They’d gotten her there just in time, but the gaping wound in her side meant that her well-being was no certainty. He turned around, uncertain what to do next. He looked for Jack.

Gwen was leaning against Jack near the SUV. She had her head buried in his chest, disregarding the mess that had been made of his shirt when he’d been shot and bled out. Jack had his arms around her, rocking her gently, speaking quietly. It could have easily been her, with Tosh wounded mere inches from her while they crouched in a supposedly sheltered position. Ianto could hear her sobs and Jack’s murmured reassurances, and he felt exhausted to the bone and weary of being upright. He’d caught a short nap in the vehicle in the night, but otherwise it had been two days straight of adrenaline. 

On shaking legs he walked back to the vehicle, throwing his jacket inside. He took a bottle of water from the boot and poured water on his hands, washing the sticky blood from them as best he could. He jumped when Jack laid a hand on his back.

“Come on, let’s go.” 

Jack shepherded Gwen into the back seat while Ianto climbed into the passenger side, and they drove away from the hospital in silence. Jack reached across and took Ianto’s hand, which was resting on the console between them. He looked at Jack, who was pale and gaunt, dark circles under his eyes and jaw set tightly, knuckles white on the steering wheel. He tightened the grip, pulling Jack’s hand into his lap and interlacing their fingers. Jack glanced over at him and gave him the ghost of a smile before turning his attention back to the road.

“Drop me at home, will you?” Gwen spoke up from the back seat. “I just want to see Rhys.”

Jack looked at her in the rearview mirror. “Of course.” He took a right, and in a few blocks they were at Gwen’s flat. 

She jumped out of the vehicle, pausing in the open door. “Call me when you have any news about Tosh, yeah?”

Jack nodded, and she closed the door rushed up the path to her flat. They watched her until she was inside, and then Jack pulled away from the curb and continued on to Torchwood.

Ianto considered going home, but the idea of sitting in his flat, alone with his thoughts, held no appeal. His hand was growing sweaty in Jack’s grip, but he didn’t let go, and Jack’s fingers were still tightly woven in his. A week ago, he couldn’t meet Jack’s eye. Now, he couldn’t take his eyes off him, just to assure himself he was there. They drove on.

When they pulled to a stop in the parking garage, they hopped out and Ianto gestured to the vehicle. “I’ll clean up.” The boot was a mess where they’d thrown things around to make room for transporting Toshiko to the hospital, and blood was everywhere. He couldn’t stomach the idea of leaving it there, not where anyone would come back to find it and be reminded of it. Especially not if… if things didn’t work out for the best.

Jack nodded tiredly. “Fine.” He made his way towards the Hub without a backward glance, fatigue obvious in the set of his shoulders and his heavy step.

 

***

 

After an hour of mindless cleaning, Ianto finally made it to the Hub, heading for the shower and a change of clothes. Another suit binned. He grabbed the replacement from his locker, opting for just the shirt and trousers, leaving the waistcoat, tie and jacket hanging inside. Too tired to do more, he made his way to the couch and sat, staring blankly at the monolith and the water that poured down into the pool below. 

He thought of Tosh, and the sallow colour of her skin as her blood had left her. The idea of one of them dying, of losing one of their team – it was like contemplating losing a limb. They were one organism, living and breathing and fighting together. Jack at least had the courtesy to be immortal, to always come back. He was as unchanging as the rock of Gibraltar, sometimes more a force of nature than a human being. 

He might be as safe and predictable as nature itself, but at least he was a constant. He hoped that Jack would ask him to stay the night. He needed to stay with Jack, to listen to him breathe in the night, heart beating with reassuring steadiness. He didn’t want anything more, just to lie there and know it was all right.

The scuff of feet made him look up, and he saw Jack standing there, cleaned up and changed, with two glasses in one hand and a bottle of whisky in the other. It looked like he’d raided his private stock, something that was only hauled out on rare occasions. Jack lifted the bottle with a questioning expression, and Ianto nodded, dropping his feet off the table and straightening on the couch.

Jack poured and handed Ianto a glass, settling onto the couch next to him. Jack downed the drink in one go, and after a second of contemplation, Ianto did the same. The burn was warm and fortifying, but he couldn’t help his grimace. He’d never managed to find a taste for the drink, despite Jack’s attempts to cultivate the palates of the entire team. 

Jack grabbed the bottle and refilled their glasses, leaning back into the couch. “Thanks for staying.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t feel like going home.” Going home would have meant an empty room and a cold bed, with Toshiko’s phantom blood still on his hands and visions of Jack’s dead body lying in the street. He’d much rather stay here with Jack’s arm brushing his, listening to the sound of his voice. The warm glow of alcohol was no doubt helping as well.

“I heard from Owen. Tosh’ll be okay. She’ll still have a long recovery even with the tissue regenerator we’ve got, but she’ll be okay in a month or so. I called Gwen and let her know.”

Ianto closed his eyes, resting his head on the back of the couch. “Good. That’s good.”

“Yeah.” Jack sipped his drink again. 

They were quiet, too tired to talk, and the drink disappeared quickly as they sat in silence. When Jack refilled his glass again, Ianto snorted. “Trying to get us drunk?”

“Yep,” he answered. He clinked his glass to Ianto’s. “Good idea, don’t you think, after a week like this?”

Ianto was already starting to feel loose and relaxed, and it was a fine feeling in contrast to his usual state of coiled anxiety. Maybe Jack had a point. He took another swallow, which slid down much easier than the first. He knew he should think about eating something, but his body was sinking into the comfort of the couch, and Jack was warm and reassuring and alive, and worrying about details was too much work. He slouched farther into the couch, not wishing to disturb the moment by getting up – a hangover was the worst that could come of it, and he’d certainly survived those before. 

“I always think I can protect you lot.” Jack sighed, leaning his head back and sticking his feet up on the table. “Never seems to be enough, though. Always something that gets through, someone hurt.”

Ianto tilted his head to look at Jack. “She’ll be alright.”

Jack slugged back his drink. “Yep. This time, everybody lives.” He laughed quietly, looking into the empty glass. “Well, not really. Just the people I care about. But I’ll take it.” He passed a hand over his eyes, then took Ianto’s hand again, holding it tightly.

He was warmed by the words and squeezed Jack’s hand in response. He couldn’t remember Jack ever seeming so frank with him before, and he wasn’t sure what to do with a maudlin Jack, but he could at least sit and listen. It was even relaxing, just sitting together like this, the well-earned relief found in the camaraderie of survivors. Another pour, and more companionable silence as they held hands, listening to the trickle of dripping water echo in the empty Hub.

This felt good and right, he thought, watching Jack’s profile, the muscles in his jaw working as he swished a mouthful of whisky around, his throat as he swallowed, then the look of faint amusement as Jack looked down to see Ianto watching him. He smiled at Jack, delighting in seeing the expression mirrored on Jack’s face. He had the vague and half-formed thought that this was bad idea, but he was too tired and on his way to drunk to care, and waved away anything that could spoil his unexpected good mood.

Jack nudged him. “Drink up, you’re falling behind.”

Ianto blinked at him, but drank the whisky down as per Jack’s urging without much thought, and then Jack was again there with the bottle, refilling his glass and clinking in toast. Ianto giggled, and the sound was silly and distant to his own ears. Perhaps ‘on his way to drunk’ was being charitable. The bottle on the table was nearly empty. When had that happened?

Jack put an arm around him, and he sighed contentedly. “Alright?”

“Empty stomach and not much sleep makes for a cheap drunk,” he mumbled into his glass. “Sorry.”

“This is an eighty-year single malt whisky. You’re definitely not cheap.” Jack pulled him tight against him. “Still waiting to see if you’re easy, though,” he said, his voice teasing.

Ianto giggled again, burrowing into Jack’s side and breathing in the warm scent of his body. “As if I ever say no.”

“Maybe you should, sometimes.”

Ianto raised his head from where he was nuzzling at Jack’s neck, blinking at him in confusion. “What?”

“Say no. When you don’t want something.”

He was certain Jack was trying to get at something, but he wasn’t quite following. “What wouldn’t I want?”

Jack picked up his hand and kissed it. “Just saying.” Jack turned over his hand and kissed the inside of his wrist, and Ianto shivered.

“Mm. Do that again,” he murmured. He wasn’t normally one to ask, but god that felt good right now. And since Jack suddenly seemed so concerned with what Ianto wanted, maybe asking would get him more.

Jack looked up at him, a devilish grin lighting his features, and he purposefully scraped his teeth along the sensitive skin and then kissed again. “Like that?”

“Hmm,” Ianto sighed, letting his eyes slide closed. His head felt too heavy to hold up, and he let it fall back on the couch. Jack continued to kiss his palm and wrist, and it was both arousing and relaxing. “I’ll fall asleep on you,” he warned with a heavy sigh.

“I’ll make you a coffee. Someone has to be awake to appreciate my scintillating small talk and amusing anecdotes.”

Ianto snorted loudly. “Right. Well, you’ll have to make a run. We’re out. Get pizza while you’re at it.”

Jack hummed, kissing Ianto’s wrist again. “I’m going to have to get used to the old coffee again, aren’t I?”

“What?” He rolled his head to look at Jack. 

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Anna?”

“Oh.” Ianto frowned and rolled his head back to stare up at the ceiling. “Yeah. We’ll have to send in a decoy if you want more of that. Definitely not going back there.” Jack only grunted in reply, and rolled Ianto’s sleeve back further and kissed the inside of his forearm. Ianto had a sudden and unpleasant thought, and raised his head. “You’re not going to see her again, are you?”

“No.”

“Good.” He let his head fall down again. Too much effort to keep it up.

“Going to miss her?”

“Hm?” He blinked over at Jack, uncertain about what he was talking about. Another distracting kiss, this time on the inside of his elbow. That was… really nice. Maybe he should take his shirt off. Maybe Jack would take his shirt off. Bollocks to that, maybe he should take all his clothes off. Another kiss, on his shoulder.

“Anna. Will you miss her?” 

“Oh. No.” Jack was kissing his throat now, soft and slow. Ianto tilted his head back and the world spun, so he closed his eyes. “Does that make me a bastard?”

Jack chuckled, then moved lower, working his way down Ianto’s chest. “No, just not in love.” 

The words registered just as Jack teased his nipple through his shirt and Ianto gasped, distracted from whatever thought Jack’s words had triggered. Jack hummed appreciatively, and did it again.

“More,” Ianto moaned, running his fingers into Jack’s hair as Jack pushed his shirt up and out of the way, obliging. The scratchiness of a day’s growth on Jack’s chin rubbed pleasantly at his skin, and his hair slipped softly through Ianto’s fingers. He was losing any kind of focus, his body moving on instinct.

“So I have you all to myself, now?” 

Jack’s words buzzed against his skin, and he squirmed. “Yeah,” he panted, too enthralled with the feel of Jack’s lips moving down his belly and the hand ghosting over his cock through his trousers to care about anything else. “All yours.”

“Good.” Jack’s breath was so hot. “So, what do you want, Ianto?”

“Anything,” he muttered, dizzy and tingling. “You. Anything.”

Jack made a noise that was half passion and half frustration. “Come on, Ianto.” Jack lifted his head and moved over Ianto, kissing him. His hair was wild, his pupils wide and lids heavy, face flushed. His breath was heavy, and smelled of the whisky they’d been drinking. “You. Tell me what _you_ want.”

“I want you.” He squinted at Jack, wondering why he was belabouring the point, but then an idea occurred and he grinned and smiled sweetly – or tried to, it was probably more of a leer. “I want you to fuck me. Hard and fast, long and slow – whatever you want.” Jack had a filthy mouth and a real thing for talking dirty, but he’d never been able to coax Ianto into reciprocating. Ianto could remember blushing violently the first time Jack had snuck up behind him and whispered things in his ear. Now, drunk and shameless, he couldn’t care less about how ludicrous the words sounded coming from his mouth. 

“Ianto…” 

Jack’s voice was rough and low, and might have sounded like a warning if he was a little more together, but Ianto was well into his little game now, and it was amazing how the words could pour from his mouth without any thought at all. He fisted his hand in the front of Jack’s shirt and pulled him close until they were nose to nose, Jack’s breath falling across his lips, his body braced across Ianto’s. “Come on, Jack, make me beg. I need you inside of me – my mouth, my arse, I don’t care. Just fuck me, Jack, please.” He reached a hand between Jack’s legs, stroking along his hard cock, squeezing lightly through his trousers. It was like someone else had taken over his body, was directing his leaden limbs in this clumsy, pornographic charade of seduction. From the look on Jack’s face though, it was working.

“Jesus,” Jack groaned loudly, closing his eyes. “You will be the death of me.” He slid down until he was kneeling on the floor between Ianto’s legs, dropping his head to Ianto’s lap. Jack mouthed at Ianto’s cock through his trousers, and all of Ianto’s concentration was involved in appreciating the heat and movement of the action. “Keep talking.”

“I – I don’t know what else to say,” he gasped in admission, hips tilting forward eagerly towards Jack’s mouth, his head falling back and eyes too heavy to keep open any more. “Ah, god, more – Jack–“

Jack’s teeth ran along the length of him. “Is that all you want from me?” he growled. “A good, hard fuck?”

Tired of Jack’s teasing, he fisted his fingers tightly in Jack’s hair and pulled him upright, leaning in to kiss him hard. Jack dove into the kiss, making an inarticulate sound of pleasure. “No,” he mumbled, licking and biting at Jack’s lips. “But I’ll take what I can get.” The syllables jumbled together muddily.

His attention narrowed to the mess of tugging hands and clumsy limbs, to the fight to remove clothing and get close enough to each other. After an extended struggle, with a roll and a thump they ended up on the floor by the couch, Ianto pinning Jack to the ground with his weight; Jack’s trousers and pants were around his knees, and Ianto was kicking his off clumsily with Jack’s assistance, both of them groping and sucking and biting what they could reach. Finally freed, Ianto clambered astride Jack, and Jack’s eyes slammed closed as Ianto ground against him, hard and artless. He reached up and pulled Ianto down, kissing him with messy desperation.

“Tell me what you want,” Jack demanded with a growl, grinding against him. “Goddamn it Ianto, just tell me. What do you want from me?” 

Ianto sucked at Jack’s neck, and felt Jack spit in his hand to slick his cock. He felt the blunt pressure against him, and knew this would hurt tomorrow, but he didn’t care. He pressed down, listening to Jack’s deep voice crack as he breathed out a curse. “This, Jack. This, I want this.”

“Do you,” Jack panted raggedly in his ear, “have any idea what a selfish man I am?” Ianto was too concerned with the burn and stretch and fantastic, painful pleasure that was whiting out his senses and cutting through his drunken haze to care about Jack’s monologue. “I know you’re not happy, and I know it’s my fault, and I let you lie to me, every time, because I can’t let you go, and I know I should, and I – oh, god – tried to – I’m sorry, Yan– nnh–“

Jack’s throat choked closed and his words stuttered to a halt as Ianto pushed down hard, until Jack was buried deep in him. They stopped like that, Jack’s hands pressed hard to his arse holding them tight together, their chests heaving, Ianto’s face pressed to the dark safety he found in the crook of Jack’s neck and shoulder.

The words were slowly percolating into his consciousness, but he only caught the barest sense of meaning, and his heart lurched, terrified. His breath was roaring in his ears. “Don’t leave me.”

Jack stroked a hand up his back, under the damp and sweaty shirt that he hadn’t bothered to take off. “That’s not what I meant.“

He was too impossibly heavy to move. He was sinking into Jack, sweat and heat and dark and pain and pleasure, his own voice a whining drone that was coming from somewhere else, unchecked and free-flowing. Jack’s rumbling reply was a series of mechanical vibrations beneath his ear and cheek, and hands urged his hips up and then down again, and again his voice, keening and needy. His head spun, and everything tilted violently.

Warm, soft kisses on his cheek. He blinked his eyes open and saw that they were sitting up, Jack cradling his head while Ianto drooped over his shoulder, arms and legs wrapped around Jack. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed.” Another kiss.

“Though we were having sex,” Ianto mumbled vaguely. 

“Yeah,” Jack said, rocking him lightly. “It can wait.”

Ianto rolled his head and managed to lift it up, pulling himself back from Jack, but failing to achieve any coordinated headway. “Jack, god. Why are you doing this to me?”

“Hey, come here.” Jack’s hands coaxed him back, and he was pressed again to Jack’s chest, his head cradled on Jack’s shoulder, soft lips pressed to his forehead. “What is it I’m doing to you?”

“Don’t,” he groaned, pressing his face into Jack’s neck, hiding in the darkness. “Stop it.”

Jack’s fingers clenched the back of his neck tighter, then relaxed. “Stop what?”

“Treating me like this. Like it’s more.”

“More than…”

“More than a shag.” His words were muffled, but he knew Jack heard them, because he froze under him. “’m just your secretary, Jack. Bloody personal fucking assistant, and you’re shagging me on the side. Don’t dress it up with all this prettiness, all this – being _nice_. It’s not fair, s’not fair…” He pulled back from Jack, chest heaving, and he realized the words were coming on sobbing breaths. He really should stop talking. He wiped his face with his sleeve, sniveling like a child, with Jack inches from him with an impossible to read look on his face, watching him fall apart. “I’m sorry. I’m drunk, I’m tired, ignore me,” he mumbled. 

He shook his head and closed his eyes, praying for the nightmare to end, and he leaned back. God, he was tired…

“Come on, one more step.”

He lifted his head, confused, the world fading back into existence with a disorienting jolt. His arm was around Jack’s shoulder, and Jack was dragging him through a doorway, halfway across the Hub from the lounge space. “Wher’re we going?” he slurred, his words mushy and useless in his mouth.

“I’m not going to leave you on the floor,” Jack puffed, staggering slightly as Ianto lurched against him as they plowed through the doorway to Jack’s office. “But if you can’t climb down the ladder, I’m dropping you. You’re drunk enough I doubt you’ll feel it.”

Several disastrous seconds later, Ianto was lying on the very hard floor of Jack’s bedroom, groaning from the fall from halfway up the ladder. Jack dropped to the floor next to him and scooped him up under the armpits. 

“Let’s go, tiger. Almost there.”

“Just let me die here,” Ianto groaned, unwilling to open his eyes.

“While I’m willing to admit the whisky may have been an error in judgment,” Jack said, grunting with the strain of shuffling Ianto into the bed, “it won’t lead to your early and untimely death.”

The world tilted as Ianto fell into the bed. “Retcon me. I don’t want to remember this.” 

He heard a snort. “Odds are poor you’ll remember it anyway.”

Jack was undoing his belt and trousers, tugging them off. He batted at Jack’s hands ineffectually. “Piss off, Jack, ‘m too drunk to shag.”

“And yet here you lie, the very picture of seductive temptation,” Jack said dryly. “Don’t worry, your virtue is safe. I’m only getting you undressed so you can go to sleep.”

Ianto rolled as Jack pulled his trousers off, curling into the bed. Everything was in constant motion, and he clutched a pillow to him in an effort to find something solid. “Tell me what to do, Jack.” He moaned as a wave of nausea overcame him, but it settled again. “Do I wander around for the rest of my shitty life mooning after you? Do you just get tired of me one day, and I disappear?” He snuffled into the pillow, indignant, exhausted and reeling. “She dumped me because of you, you know.” 

“Why’s that?” Jack asked, in the patient and humouring tone reserved for drunks and trying children. Fucking irritating bastard. 

“She fancied me, you tosser. Asked me if I’d leave you, but I said no.” His voice was too loud but, but he didn’t care. “Hear that, Jack? Too bad! You can’t have her, because she fancied me. _Me._ ” He waved a hand declaratively, but only succeeded in flinging his arm over the side of the bed. “Even after I used her. God, I’m an ass.”

Jack was rubbing small circles on his back. The motion was soothing, and his belligerence began to fade into fatigue. He kept mumbling, the remains of his thoughts dripping and dribbling out after the weight of the flood had passed. Jack continued to rub his back while he prattled away, chuckling on occasion, silent on others, but eventually the rubbing soothed him enough that it faded to a whispered murmur.

He was drifting off to sleep. He could barely speak anymore, but his lips were still moving. “Everything’s about you, Jack. ‘S always about you,” he sighed.

He felt Jack’s hand on his neck, large and steady. “Ianto, I…”

He sunk into the pillow and unconsciousness.


	13. Chapter 13

Ianto woke with a ball of cotton in his mouth and a terrible sense of foreboding. Unwilling to open his eyes and prod the slamming headache, he tried to roll onto his side, but came up against a hard bulk.

Hard, warm, and breathing. Oh god, no. No, please. Let it be a very bad dream.

“Good morning,” Jack rumbled.

He cleared his throat, leaving his eyes closed in the childish hope that not being able to see the problem would make it go away. “I’ll assume from the fact that I’m alive, in your bed, and my arse feels like it’s on fire, that we’re still on speaking terms.”

This drew a chuckle from Jack. “So far so good. Here.” He felt the cool press of a water bottle against his forehead, which felt like heaven. Blindly he groped for it, popping the top with his teeth and taking a tentative sip. His stomach accepted the offering, and he felt marginally better for having some moisture in his dry mouth. His shoulder protested when he lowered the bottle, and he realized it was bruised and tender. A vague memory came back to him, and he cracked an eye to see Jack hovering over him, propped up on one elbow.

“Did you push me down the ladder?”

“That was gravity, not me.” Jack said with the faintest hint of a smile. 

“I…” Snatches of their evening were slowly coming back to him, painting a truly embarrassing and painful picture. “I’m sorry. I was very, very drunk.”

“I know,” Jack said, looking him over. 

"I'm sorry if I made a scene."

"Not a scene, exactly."

"Right." Ianto looked away, but he could see that Jack was still watching him carefully. Apparently all hopes of having this go away in the tried and true fashion of British denial was not the way this was going to go.

“So," Jack said after a while. "There are a few things that I’d like to clarify.” There was an arch to his eyebrow, but otherwise his expression was inscrutable.

Ianto took another sip of water cautiously. He could only imagine what he’d spewed, and what Jack would choose to take seriously. “Such as?”

Jack frowned in concentration, thinking. “Hang on, I want to be sure I’ve got this right. Ah, yes – ‘I’ll throw the next hussy who comes within ten feet of your dick into the rift. Then I’ll cut off your dick and toss it in too. I’ll bet you can grow a new one.’”

Ianto thought he just might throw up due to sheer humiliation, hangover or not. He sucked in a deep breath, which proved to be a mistake, and moaned in distress. He pulled the pillow over his head in the hopes it would make him, or perhaps Jack, disappear.

The corner of the pillow lifted. “I can re-grow it,” Jack said. “If you’re curious.”

“Do I want to know?” he muttered. 

“Probably not.”

Ianto pulled the pillow back down to cover his face again. “I promise not to cut off your dick.”

“Thank you.” Jack’s voice was muffled through the pillow, but it was still damnably amused. “Because it’s not fun.”

Ianto didn’t think it was possible to feel any smaller. He could take a lot of things, but lying nauseated, humiliated and – yep, naked in Jack’s bed while Jack laughed at him was pushing far beyond the boundaries. He tossed the pillow aside and rolled over, swallowing down his gorge and persevering through the spins to get himself into a sitting position. “I’ll go.”

“Wait,” Jack said, putting a hand on his hip. “Don’t. I’m sorry.”

“Look, Jack – I was drunk. We were both drunk. We should just forget about last night.”

“Like we forgot about Anna’s?”

His head ached too much to do this right now. He slowly rested his head in his hands, elbows on knees. “Yeah.” Perhaps he could leave now – probably not with his pride, but at least some small measure of dignity.

“Like we’re going to forget about any feelings, thoughts, or problems you have. Is that the size of it?”

He raised his head carefully, looking at Jack with bleary eyes while his stomach protested and his muscles shivered and ached, but he smiled as carefully and with as much control as he could muster. “Jack, it’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

Jack’s patient, amused expression morphed abruptly into extreme irritation. He reached up and flicked Ianto between the eyebrows with his fingers, hard.

“Ow!” Ianto jerked back at the unexpected, childish attack. “What the hell was that for?”

“You’ve got some brass balls, I’ll give you that,” Jack said with a scowl. “Sitting there and lying to me with a straight face.” He tilted his head in concession. “Usually more convincing, but you don’t pull it off as well when you’re about to puke your guts out on the floor.”

“Your sympathy is overwhelming,” Ianto muttered, hand clamped over his eyes. Jack was steadily cutting off his avenues for a graceful exit from this situation. “Fine. What do you want me to say, Jack?”

“I don’t know.” Jack’s voice was quiet. Ianto risked a peek at him, but Jack was busy inspecting the bed sheet. 

A knot was growing in Ianto’s chest. The suffocating panic that had been dogging him for weeks – months – was growing into a monster. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was good at playing games. He was used to winning. But when it came to Jack, all he seemed to do was lose. And here they were, at the end of the game. He’d made a good run of it, but he hadn’t really expected it to end well, had he? What would be a good ending, anyway? Who could ever really expect it to amount to more than this?

Ianto lowered his head into his hands, and realized that his hands were trembling violently. He’d always assumed that if Jack knew the truth, he’d have too much pride to want to continue on, knowing that Jack would only pity him for his pathetic devotion. Now, faced with reality, he realized he’d do anything to keep Jack. Pitied was better than nothing.

“Hey,” Jack said, and he felt Jack’s hand on his back, smoothing a path down over his spine. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” He was having trouble breathing against the tightness in his chest. “It’s really not.” 

Strong hands tugged at him, and he let Jack pull him down to the bed. Jack wrapped his arms around him, and soft kisses peppered his brow. “It’s fine.” Jack nuzzled at his ear, his breath hot. He felt Jack chuckle lightly. “You were very sweet.”

“Oh god,” he muttered, and tried to pull away from Jack. “Don’t. Don’t pity me. Don’t laugh at me. That’s just cruel.”

Jack wrapped an arm around his waist, keeping him there. “I’m not. I’m sorry.”

Jack’s arms around him felt like restraints, and he struggled to relax and not fight against them. His breath was rapid and seemed to be failing to bring any oxygen into his body. Why couldn’t he breathe? Embarrassing confessions and snatches of conversations kept echoing in his mind. How he’d begged Jack not to leave him, promising him the oceans and skies if only he’d promise not to leave. Every possible moment with Jack in his future, destroyed with carelessness and a collapse into sentimentality. What had he been thinking?

“Ianto.” Jack’s voice vibrated against his back. “Relax. Breathe slowly. Nothing is wrong.”

“I’m… I’m trying.” He couldn’t seem to catch his breath, no matter what he did. “Jack, I–“ he panted, but there wasn’t enough air. He closed his eyes. He would give anything to be somewhere else. He prayed fervently to spontaneously develop the gift of teleportation, but he remained steadfastly present with Jack wrapped around him. He felt a hand stroked through his hair before sensation drifted away – his body was deserting him, devolving into primal reaction, refusing to cooperate with him. 

Just stress, a small voice supplied, sitting several steps removed from his stiff and uncooperative body. Natural reaction to working too much. Perhaps dehydration. Lack of sleep. Maybe too much shagging. 

He started to giggle at the last, and he choked on the sound, gasping. Jack rolled him onto his back, and he opened his eyes. Ice blue eyes focused on his, and instead of suffocating him, Jack was an anchor that shot through to his heart and tethered him to land. The distant voice in his head prompted him again, reminding him that this was Jack, not to cling, that he’d only be pushed away. That rational voice failed to reach the rest of him, and he seized onto Jack as though to a life preserver, and held on for dear life.

There were words filtering above the roar of blood surging through him – Jack’s voice, calm and steady. “That’s right, slow breaths. In, count to five, out, count to five. See? With me. One, two, three, four, five. One, two, three, four, five.”

Jack’s voice was a gentle, calming litany, wrapping around him and soothing him. Jack never broke away from him, commanding Ianto’s attention and pulling him back into his body. His racing heart slowed as his breath came under control, and he could feel Jack’s fingers running through his hair once again. Residual spikes of terror rolled through him, but he was already coming down from the massive adrenaline dump, and his body was unable to do more than shiver.

When he had been breathing calmly for several minutes, gazing into Jack’s eyes with desperation, leaning into his gentle petting, reality finally set in. He licked his lips, feeling parched. “I’m… I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” He levered an elbow under himself and tried to rise, but every muscle in his body was shaky and trembling.

“Don’t.” Jack rested his hand on Ianto’s chest, gently pushing him back into the bed. Jack stroked his chest and shoulder, then down his arm to lace his fingers in Ianto’s. “Just rest. Take it easy.“ He dipped to place a kiss on Ianto’s forehead. 

“Jack, it’s fine.” He felt exhausted, and didn’t have it in him to struggle anymore. He rolled his head away. “It’s fine.”

He felt Jack sigh, the exhaled air blowing against his skin. “Stop. Just stop.”

So this is where it ended. He finally relaxed fully, melting into the bed. In a way, it was a relief. Knowing, instead of constantly waiting for the axe to fall. 

“I was married once, you know.”

The words caught him completely off-guard, and he rolled his head back to look at Jack. Jack was looking down at him again, propped up over him once more. He didn’t know what to say to this volunteered information, and he frowned up at Jack.

Jack had a faint, nostalgic smile. “Fifteen years. Sweet girl – old-fashioned, though. Still, there was a war, and I guess I got caught up in the romance as much as anyone else. Not that I regretted it.”

Ianto blinked, too drained to feel anything, so he replied at the dictation of polite conversation rules more than anything else. “Oh. What happened?”

“She died. Cancer. Young, too – fifty-eight.” He blinked back to meet Ianto’s eyes. “She’d started to notice I wasn’t aging by the time she died, but she never said anything. I didn’t go to the funeral – too young to be her husband, too old to be her son. Didn’t want to scandalize her family.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Jack shrugged. “I suppose I’m trying to say that monogamy is not lost on me. I get it. It’s not the natural order of things for me, but I get it. And I’ve done it before.”

Ianto dropped his head, leaning his cheek against Jack’s arm, blinking slowly. His mind was sluggish, as though drugged, and he tried to process Jack’s words. “I’m not asking for that. I’m not asking for anything.”

“I know. And you won’t.” Jack leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Even though I’ve been hurting you for a long time. Even though it’s not right for you, and you’re trying to make it work anyway.” He drew back, with a sad smile. "My turn, wouldn't you say?"

“You don’t have to…” Ianto swallowed heavily. If he had an ounce of energy left in him, he might be able to put more sincerity into his protest. Instead it was wooden, mechanical. “You don’t have to do this. You’re not–”

Jack leaned over and kissed him, cutting off his words. It was slow, tender. “I know. I can’t do much, but this is easy enough, at least.” He raised his head again. Again he inspected Ianto. “I have lots of time, Ianto. Lots. There’s no need to try and squeeze everything in all at once.”

Ianto stared at him blankly. His mind was moving slowly, numb from all the excess of emotion. He was drained, so drained. Was Jack offering him this, really?

“Jealousy – I told you. Fear of losing something you care about. You don’t have to worry – I’m not going anywhere.” He lay down next to Ianto, resting his head on the pillow. “I’ve always been good at falling in love. Falling out of it… not so much.” Jack didn’t look embarrassed or reticent about the admission, just matter of fact. “If you’re worried about that, you don’t have to be.”

“I don’t understand.” The moment had an unreal tinge on it, and he didn’t know how he was supposed to feel. 

“I can see that.” Jack pulled Ianto closer, cradling his head in the crook of his neck. “I thought…” Jack swallowed. “I don’t know what I thought.” He carded through Ianto’s hair, sighing. “I didn’t know how you felt.” His words were heavy with emotion. “You make me crazy, you know. More than anyone I’ve met in a long time. Sometimes, you seem bulletproof. You’re a tough nut to crack.”

“You seem to have done a fairly thorough job,” Ianto mumbled into Jack’s neck. 

“Right. I’ll keep that in mind – three days of a life-threatening situation and no sleep, a bottle of whisky, and a little sex. Most effective interrogation technique yet.”

“Please tell me you didn’t get me drunk on purpose,” Ianto said, pulling back a little bit to look at Jack.

“No,” Jack said, rubbing his back. He looked considering. “Though in retrospect, it was informative. Should have tried it sooner.” 

“I don’t want to know,” Ianto said, lying on his back to stare at the ceiling. “I’m sure I thoroughly made a spectacle of myself.”

Jack pulled him back and cupped his face, thumbs brushing over his lips. “Did you think I’d be upset?”

Ianto tipped his head into Jack’s hand, rubbing his cheek against the rough skin. He was still staring at Jack like he would disappear any moment. “Yes.” 

Jack continued to trace the line of his cheekbone, then the shell of his ear, an unhurried exploration, as though he would memorize the curve and shape of each inch of him. “I always forget how young you are.”

Ianto raised an eyebrow. “And I forget what a crotchety old bastard you are,” Ianto returned acerbically, but there was no real venom to it. 

Jack broke into a grin and laughed at the haughty retort, a warm and welcoming sound, and Ianto smiled back, a spark of genuine emotion finally igniting in the numbness that had rolled over him. He pulled Ianto down for a kiss, and then another, and hugged him close to his chest. Ianto settled his weight on Jack, accepting the comfort of the embrace. 

“Thank you,” Ianto whispered.

Jack’s chest rose and fell in a sigh. Under his breath he muttered something – possibly _I’m going to hell_ , but Ianto wasn’t certain. His arms tightened around Ianto. “It’s not – this isn’t… this isn’t smart, you know.”

“It’s a little late for smart.”

Jack inhaled, nose buried in Ianto's hair. “Yeah, it is.” He tipped Ianto’s head back and kissed him, deeper this time. When he pulled back, his eyes were troubled. “You’ll age, you’ll grow. You might find that this isn’t where you want to be, that this isn’t what you want anymore. If that comes, you’re not obligated. Things come and go. I won’t make your life difficult. You don’t have to be afraid to tell me what you want. Even if it’s ‘no more.’”

“I’m not a child,” Ianto said. He couldn’t picture telling Jack no more, under any circumstances, but he wouldn’t say as much. Too much, too soon.

“I know, but keep in mind what I said.” Jack said quietly. He studied Ianto. “You really are beautiful, you know.”

Ianto rolled his eyes. “A bit thick, now. You can stop.”

“Learn to take a compliment,” Jack said lightly, and leaned down to kiss him. When he pulled back, the worried creases and lines had softened into an affectionate smile. “You are so young,” he murmured, shaking his head. 

Ianto stared up at him, happy and frustrated at once, still grasping for meaning. There was something more behind those words and that smile, but he didn’t have the energy to try and find it right now. He decided that the mystery of what it all meant could wait for another day. For now, they could keep things simple. “Jack?” He laid a hand on Jack’s cheek.

Jack blinked and focused on him. “Yes?”

“You should really shut up while you’re ahead.”

Jack’s eyes danced. “Yes, sir.” He leaned in to kiss Ianto again.


	14. Chapter 14

Ianto waited for the other shoe to drop. For a week, he watched Jack like a hawk wherever he moved, waiting for some hint that Jack had changed his mind, and come to his senses. He didn’t. Perhaps he considered the matter closed. 

In fact, nothing really changed. 

Jack was still himself – an unrepentant flirt – and the world still loved Jack, people seemingly tripping over themselves to garner his attention, but it never went farther than that. For some inexplicable reason, Jack had chosen to humour Ianto’s insecurity and was not seeing other people. Ianto wondered on occasion if it chafed Jack, but he never said anything, and Ianto didn’t ask. He was willing to take it.

Tosh eventually came back to work after far too long recovering. She’d blushed as they all applauded her entrance, pink and embarrassed as she made her way to her station. Life at Torchwood carried on, with all the insanity that entailed. In the snatches of breath in between crises, Jack and Ianto continued to play their little game; they flirted when they thought no one was paying attention, they stole kisses and touches in dark corners of the Hub, and would still spend the odd night together, though it was a more frequent occurrence than it had been in the past. 

Sometimes, though, it was different. Jack would kiss him just so, and time would slow to a languid pace, like honey pouring over a moment. He’d draw back hesitantly, and find that Jack was still and calm, open and available. They never spoke in these tiny moments, as though words might break the spell, but it didn’t seem necessary to say anything. Though their sex had been varied and extremely educational, Ianto often found that it was these moments that he fantasized about. 

Once, Jack stayed over at Ianto’s. It was unnatural to see Jack in the small space of his flat, tousled and relaxed. He’d cooked Ianto breakfast, and it had been rubbish and half-burnt. Ianto ate it anyway, and then banned Jack from using his kitchen ever again, which was accepted with a good-natured laugh. After Jack left that afternoon, Ianto had sat in the armchair in the corner of his room, lost in his confused thoughts until he came back to himself to realize that the sun had long set and the yellow light of the streetlamps outside were casting stark shadows through the small window of his flat.

Jack seemed happy. When he allowed himself to think on it, Ianto thought he might be happy, too. 

 

***

 

The Rift was silent, and Tosh’s predictor program showed that there would be a lull for the coming three days. Everyone was taking the opportunity to dig themselves out of a mountain of backlogged work, and Ianto was trying to shovel the Hub out from under the mountain of trash and filth that had similarly accumulated. 

When he finally surfaced in the main area of the Hub, shucking off rubber glove and heavy apron, he saw that it had gone eight and everyone had already left for the day. The soft glow of the desk lamp in Jack’s office was still lit, but otherwise things were dark and still. 

After Ianto cleaned himself up, he knocked on Jack’s door and cracked it, peering in. Jack was behind a stack of paperwork a foot tall, looking irritable and fatigued.

“Would you like me to get started forging your signature?”

Jack looked up, surprised by his voice, but greeted Ianto with a warm smile. “Thought you’d gone home.”

“Was down in the cell block. Cleaning up number three from the exploding octopus incident.”

“Oh. Right.” Jack winced. “Did the ink stain?”

“I think Owen’s outline will grace the wall for some time to come.” Owen himself had been luckier – the dark blue staining his skin had faded after four days. Just long enough for it to stay amusing to ask Owen _why so blue?_ at random intervals, until he all but growled at anyone passing him. They had a bet going that if they could make him flush with apoplexy, he would turn purple. They weren’t disappointed.

Jack set the pen down and stretched, rolling his head to alleviate his stiffness. Ianto crossed the office and set himself behind Jack, digging his thumbs into the tight muscles. Jack dropped his head back to rest it against Ianto’s stomach, groaning happily.

“You are a godsend,” Jack grunted as Ianto worked to loosen his shoulders. 

“All part of the service,” Ianto murmured, watching Jack’s features slacken as he relaxed under Ianto’s hands. He lean down and kiss the top of Jack’s head.

Jack opened his eyes and looked up at Ianto, tilting his head further to meet his gaze, and Ianto’s hands stilled. He held his breath. The moment stretched.

Moving slowly and deliberately, Ianto spun Jack’s chair so that he was facing him, and leaned down to kiss him properly. Jack was pliant, accepting the kiss, but not directing it. He sighed as Ianto unbuttoned his shirt and ran his hands along Jack's chest, stroking his hand up his sides and pulling the shirt off. The chair creaked as Ianto climbed atop Jack, their weight tilting it back until it stopped up against the desk.

He couldn’t keep his hands off Jack, roaming each bit of skin like it was new territory. Jack’s hands moved underneath his jacket, sliding down and stroking the backs of his thighs, then circling around to move up his body until he reached Ianto’s tie, holding it tight. The slight restriction was just enough to light an unexpected flame of interest, and he tugged at Jack’s hair until Jack’s head fell back, exposing his throat, and he bit at the soft skin with a force that drew a sharp hiss from Jack. Ianto kissed the same spot, then drew back – he’d left behind a set of reddening marks behind that would most definitely bruise by tomorrow, and with some fascination, he trailed a finger over the spot. 

Jack was heavy-lidded and aroused, yet he didn’t pounce as Ianto expected he would. He looked up at Ianto, still and waiting, open and vulnerable beneath him.

“What do you want, Ianto?” Jack asked, softly. “Anything.”

There were many things he wanted. His imagination skipped over images and ideas, tantalizing and tempting. He wanted to take his time. He wanted to touch, and explore, and taste Jack without reservation or limit, to linger over his sighs. He never allowed himself the luxury to just enjoy Jack, and he wanted to. 

He kissed Jack softly on the lips, releasing his grip on Jack’s hair and sliding his hand down Jack’s neck to rest it against his chest, feeling Jack’s heart beating loudly against his ribs. It was presumptuous, but… 

“I’d like to stay.” 

Jack paused long enough that he drew a breath to take it back, but then Jack’s mouth curled into a smile that spoke volumes.

“That sounds great.”


End file.
